From Strangers to Brothers
by silvermoongirl10
Summary: Spans from when Porthos and Aramis first met, through to the series. Being a Musketeer means many things, a loyal brotherhood, good friends, great adventures and of course the odd injury.
1. Meeting – 1623

**A/N This is my first Musketeers fic so apologises if any one seems out of character.**

* * *

Porthos was wandering the streets aimlessly. Recently he had been spending more and more time away from Flea and Charon. It was not that he no longer cared for his friends, it was the opposite, he loved them dearly. They were the family he hadn't had since the age of five. But he wanted something more than what the Court offered. He wanted to be able to walk the streets of Paris with his head held high and have people respect him, and not be judged for his ratty clothes. He sighed, he knew he was stuck where he was; he was never going to amount to anything. He was doomed to be one of _those_ from the Court of Miracles.

He found a good place to lean against a wall and contented himself with watching the bustling streets. Usually, he, Charon and Flea did this to pick a target, but today he just wanted to watch the people he could never be like. He was jolted from his thoughts at a loud shout. He swung his head around to see an old woman lying on the floor winded with a Musketeer crouched beside her, he watched as another Musketeer tried to keep up with another who was chasing a young man who had obviously winded the old woman to steal from her. Porthos knew that trick, but he would never have done that to someone who was old and unable to work, they needed money just as much as he and his fellow Court members did. So Porthos decided to follow the two Musketeers and help capture the thief. But he took the back alleys, soon the thief began running down the wide alley, he himself was in.

Porthos remained in the shadows and watched as only one of the Musketeers ran down the alley. The dark haired Musketeer called for the thief to stop and give himself up.

"I'm not doing that! If I do you'll take me to the Chataelet!" screeched the thief.

Porthos couldn't help but agree with the thief, he had long since learned to avoid the distinctive blue cloaks worn by the King's Musketeers, despite the Regiment only having been formed last year.

The dark haired Musketeer shook his head as he took a few steps closer to the thief, "If you return the woman's purse to me now. I will let you go"

Porthos gaped in shock; he had not expected to hear those words come out of a Musketeer's mouth. Looking at the thief, Porthos could see they were thinking the same thing.

"How do I know you're not lying" spat the thief as he glared daggers at the Musketeer.

The Musketeer held up his hands and removed his hat while he calmly replied, "Just throw me the purse and you can be on your way"

Porthos watched as the thief gripped the scarf around his neck, betraying his anxiety. He was clearly wondering whether he should trust the Musketeer. Porthos looked at the dark haired man and saw in his eyes no lie. The Musketeer would truly let the thief go if he only handed the purse over.

Porthos could see the thief twitching as if he was about to throw the purse to the Musketeer when a distant voice shouted out, "Aramis!"

The Musketeer twitched his head slightly showing that it was his name that had been shouted. The thief believing that it was all a trick surged forward ripping the scarf from his neck and wrapped it around the Musketeer's neck and pulled tight.

Porthos stayed in the shadows deliberating on what he should do, it was one thing to make sure a thief was caught by the Musketeers. It was a completely different thing to _save_ a Musketeer.

The Musketeer widened his eyes in shock and tried to wriggle out of the tight grip around his neck. But the thief in his desperation hung on and in the Musketeer's struggle the scarf was only tightened. Porthos shuddered hearing the desperate gasping breaths of the man being strangled. The thief lowered them to the muddy ground and tightened the scarf again. The Musketeer with one hand desperately pulled against the scarf to give himself some room to breathe, and his other hand was lying beside him clutching the filthy mud as if this would help him through the pain. His hat dropping onto the muddy street forgotten in the struggle.

Porthos was still frozen in the shadows, this was not the first time he had stayed hidden while someone was killed in front of him. He had hidden many times to keep himself alive. He watched as the Musketeer's struggles began to weaken and the tension was beginning to leak out of him. His hands weren't pulling at the scarf as strongly and he wasn't kicking out his legs as much as he had been to desperately escape. Porthos was prepared to stay hidden. But remembering the honest look in the Musketeer's eyes as he promised to let the thief go. He realized Paris needed more Musketeers' like this one, so Porthos' next move was decided.

He leapt out of the shadows and surprised the thief enough that he was able to pull him away from the Musketeer and as the thief tried to fight back Porthos punched him so he was knocked unconscious. He was prepared to run away but the hoarse, gasping breathes of the Musketeer stilled him. He turned and saw the Musketeer still trying to pull enough air into his lungs through his abused throat. Porthos crawled over to the man, that closer up looked roughly the same age as Porthos himself. Whatever age that was.

He settled a hand on the man's chest and calmly stated, "Easy. Breathe slower; you're not doing yourself any favours breathing harshly like that." Wide dark brown eyes stared back up at him and Porthos steadily met the gaze, realizing the Musketeer was trying to focus on him to help himself steady his breathing.

"That's it, nice and slow" Porthos encouraged. He went to remove the scarf from around the Musketeer's neck, but a hand shot up and stilled his hand. He looked into the brown eyes and saw barely concealed panic.

"I'm only going to remove the scarf. I won't pull on it I promise" Porthos gently said. The hand around his wrist dropped away and the Musketeer watched carefully as the scarf was gently removed from around his neck. Porthos chucked the scarf to the side and winced seeing the bright red mark around the man's neck. Seeing it on the neck of an honest man made Porthos want to punch the (still unconscious) thief again. A hand again stilled him and he looked down to see the Musketeer shake his head.

"Risky job. Used to situations like this" the Musketeer rasped barely audible. Before Porthos could say anything he turned hearing pounding feet coming up the alley.

"Aramis!" called a man, who Porthos guessed was in his middle age, and guessed from the looks of his clothes was in command of the Musketeers. He looked panicked seeing his Musketeer lying in the muddy street. He relaxed a little when the Musketeer, Aramis, lifted a hand slightly and waved.

"What happened?!" demanded the man as he stood above Aramis and Porthos. Aramis opened his mouth to reply but all that came out was a croaky hissing sound. The man raised an eyebrow in confusion.

Porthos then spoke up, "He tried to apprehend a thief, the one lying over there" he gestured to the thief where two Musketeers, the ones he saw earlier, were pulling the thief up and dragging him away. "The thief then tried to strangle the Muske – Aramis… and then I stopped him"

The older man paused and then smiled, "And I thank you for saving the life of my Musketeer"

Porthos nodded his head in acceptance, and then together he and the older man lifted Aramis to his feet. The old man slung one of Aramis' arms over his shoulders and looked at the younger man despairingly.

"I know I said I wanted some peace and quiet. But did you have to go to the extreme for me to get a few days respite from your never ceasing voice?"

Aramis shrugged sheepishly. He then tugged on Porthos' sleeve, while Aramis may have been unable to say anything. Porthos knew he was being thanked.

Porthos nodded and then paused before saying, "You may want to find yourself some faster friends, so you are never in this kind of a situation again"

Aramis' shoulders shook in his silent laughter, but he nodded his head in agreement.

The older man hummed and then commented, "I'm going to have to speak to Gilbert and Tristan about that. I know Tristan was helping the woman, but Gilbert should have stayed with you. He should have known better than to let you apprehend a man on your own. That is just asking for trouble"

Porthos nodded, silently happy that something was going to be done, he didn't like the thought of this kind-hearted Aramis getting killed through his fellow Musketeers' incompetence. The old man and Aramis waved goodbye and walked back to their garrison. As Porthos was about to walk away he noticed Aramis' hat still lying in the street. He bent and picked it up and brushed the mud off and then walked away.

* * *

Two days later Porthos found himself nervously pacing in front of the Musketeer garrison. Clutched nervously in his hands was Aramis' hat. It had taken Porthos two days to work up the nerve to come to the garrison. People like him didn't willingly come here. As he was about to walk away and try again the next day when he spotted Aramis walking towards him and grinning at him.

"You've found my hat!" he gleefully exclaimed.

"Er…yeah…here" Porthos replied as he held the hat out, he wasn't going to confess to having the hat for two days.

Once Aramis had firmly placed the hat onto his head, he smiled brightly at Porthos. "Now that I have my voice back I can properly thank you. And not just for the safe return of my hat"

"It was nothing" shrugged Porthos.

"Oh no! Don't just brush it off!" complained Aramis, "It was a nice thing you did. Most people would have carried on walking. So I thank you profusely for helping me…er…?"

Porthos nervously rubbed the back of his neck. "Porthos…um… it's alright"

Before Aramis could say anything else, or before Porthos could make his excuses and leave. A voice called out to him and he was face to face with the older man.

"I was hoping I would see you again. My name is Captain Treville" Treville paused and gave a side glance to a smiling Aramis and raised his eyebrows, "don't you have some duties you need to be completing?"

Aramis grinned, "But Captain it is such a _glorious_ day and I thought I would just-" he stopped suddenly seeing the look he was being given by Treville. "Er… yes my duties. Thank you again Porthos. Goodbye"

Porthos smiled as he watched Aramis walk away, he looked back at Treville just in time to see him raise his eyes heavenward.

"As I was saying" continued Treville, "Would you mind walking with me? I'd like to ask you something"

Porthos didn't know what it was that made him agree to walk with Treville. He was just thankful that he did. While the talk led to him leaving the Court and his friends. It also led to him to be able to walk down the streets of Paris with his head held high, he was shown respect and he could ensure Aramis was not killed through someone's incompetence. This better chapter of his life was all down to him being brave enough to step in and help someone and no longer hiding in the shadows.

**TBC**


	2. Friendship Formed – 1623

Porthos had been with the Musketeers for a month now, Treville and Aramis were the only ones he confessed to where he had grown up. So with no lodgings Aramis had insisted Porthos come and stay with him until he had saved up enough money to pay for his own lodgings. Porthos had of course argued saying there was no idea for Aramis to do that.

"_No I will not listen to your arguments. You are going to come and stay with me. It's the least I can do after you saved my life" disputed Aramis._

_Porthos frowned, "You gave me a new life, a better life, with the Musketeers. I need no more thanks than that"_

_Aramis smirked, "Technically it was Treville who gave you a new life, not me. So this is me thanking you. Now come on, I'm not standing out in the cold arguing with you, when we both know you've lost this argument"_

And so Porthos had admitted defeat and had spent the past month living with Aramis. He soon learned Aramis was a slow riser in the morning, but once awake he could be one of those annoying morning people as long as he had had a long, uninterrupted sleep. If a loud drunkard woke Aramis during the night, in the morning Porthos stayed far away from Aramis as he could until Aramis woke up a bit and returned to normal.

He enjoyed being in the Musketeers but couldn't understand why the Musketeers already trusted him. Aramis he could understand, but the others? He hadn't done anything to gain their trust so quickly. He was grooming the horse he had been given when Raoul, as he walked past, called out a greeting.

"Porthos! We're going to the tavern later, come join us!" and then Raoul was gone and left a confused Porthos in his wake.

"Why do you look so confused?" asked a voice, Porthos turned to see Marsac, with his arms and ankles crossed, leaning against a post looking at him. Since joining the Musketeers Porthos had learned Aramis and Marsac had been amongst the first handful of soldiers to join the Musketeers. Porthos got along well with Aramis, but while he liked Marsac, he didn't seem to have the same relationship as he did with Aramis.

Porthos shrugged, "I haven't done anything to earn their trust, and yet they give it to me freely. Surely that is not what usually happens when someone joins the Regiment. Surely they have to prove themselves and earn the trust of the rest of the men". Porthos patted the mare and replaced the brush in the box and walked the few steps over to Marsac.

Marsac nodded, "Yes new men do have to earn the trust of the Regiment. And we have not given it freely to you, because you have _already_ earned it"

"How? When?" spluttered Porthos, he hadn't yet been given an assignment giving him the opportunity to prove himself. He hadn't even patrolled the streets; he had been in the garrison learning what it meant to be a King's Musketeer.

Marsac smiled kindly understanding Porthos' confusion. "You earned it the day you saved Aramis from being strangled. You didn't even know him and yet you were prepared to help him. Because of that the men know they can count on you to help them. You earned their trust even before you joined the Musketeers. Also Aramis is a great judge of character and if he trusts you everyone else knows they can too".

Marsac patted Porthos on the shoulder and then turned and walked away. Porthos watched him go, Marsac's words swirling around his head. He then found himself smiling; he felt better knowing that trust hadn't been given to him freely, that he had truly earned it. And what made it all the better was that it was something he had earned by not stealing it.

* * *

Porthos had now been with the Musketeers for five months and been given his own hat and blue cloak. He was a Musketeer. He had also been made a Musketeer on his birthday, the date he'd picked anyway. And felt he could not have received a better birthday present.

Everyone was in the courtyard celebrating both Porthos' birthday and his becoming a Musketeer. Porthos was contentedly drinking his wine when Aramis plopped down onto the seat next to him.

"This seems to have been a great day for you my friend" grinned Aramis, Porthos had lost count the number of cups he had seen Aramis drink and was surprised to see his friend only slightly swaying and not passed out.

Porthos grinned, "That it has. Are parties always like this?" he asked gesturing to the Musketeers who were all in various stages of drunkenness.

"Always!" exclaimed Aramis jovially as he leaned across to slap Porthos on the back and ended up sprawled on the floor with a string of Spanish curse words.

Porthos laughed as he helped his friend back into his seat. "I didn't know you could speak Spanish"

Aramis smiled, "My mother was Spanish and my father was French, they met and my mother knew enough French to ask my father to teach her how to speak it fluently. In the process she learnt French; he learnt Spanish and they fell in love. They married and when I was growing up I was taught both French and Spanish" Aramis then gulped the rest of his wine and then turned back to Porthos. "So how old are you today?"

Porthos shrugged, "Your guess is as good as mine. I don't know my real birthday so I just picked this day at random. How old are you?"

"On my last birthday I turned 23" responded Aramis, who didn't have a clue what to say about Porthos not even knowing how old he was.

Porthos paused and then smiling commented, "Well we look about the same age, so today I have turned 23"

Aramis grinned and refilled his and Porthos' cups, "To the magnificent age of 23!" he toasted.

* * *

The next morning Treville was stood on the walkway and sighed seeing the state of his Musketeers as they lined up in formation. Many were groaning and leaning on posts or each other to keep themselves standing. Gilbert was emptying his stomach in the corner of the courtyard; Marsac was hugging a post to keep himself standing, Raoul pitched forward and fell face first into the mud taking Tristan with him who had been using Raoul as a leaning post. And in the middle of all of this were Aramis and Porthos who were standing perfectly still and upright chuckling at the sight of their comrades.

Treville groaned, he had the sense of foreboding that Aramis and Porthos were going to be cause of many future headaches. He didn't know if he was ready for the storm they would most likely be, he didn't even know if _France_ was ready for them. He sighed again and walked down the stairs to try and get his men into some form of order.

**TBC**


	3. Seamstress' hands – 1624

Porthos was now on his way to completing his third assignment with the Musketeers. He and Aramis had been tasked with riding to Rouen to collect a letter meant for Treville's eyes only. They didn't know who it was from or what the letter was about, they were only told to go to a priest in the church in the centre of Rouen and then ride back to Paris as quickly as possible. The letter was safely tucked away in a bag that Aramis had crossed over him. Seeing the serious look in Aramis' eyes Porthos knew, if it was needed, Aramis would give his life to ensure the safety of the letter. Porthos didn't know what to think of that, dying in battle or defending the King was one thing, but to die for a letter? But he had become a good soldier and knew not to question his orders. He pushed his thoughts to the back of his mind, just the thought of Aramis dying made his heartbeat quicken. In the year they had been friends, Aramis had become a brother to him and he did not like the thought of his brother dying. While Porthos had been stuck in the garrison learning the ways of the Musketeers Aramis had been going out on patrols and assignments as usual, every time he returned with some scratches or small injuries Porthos would have nightmares of the time he saved Aramis from being strangled. Then he hadn't known Aramis, but now, if he ever found someone trying to kill Aramis he would kill them first. No questions asked.

They were halfway through some woods when he shifted in his saddle uncomfortably; they were less than a day's ride from Paris. But it was still a few hours away. Aramis caught sight of Porthos' shifting and grinned.

"Uncomfortable?" Aramis smirked as he turned in his saddle to face Porthos.

Porthos narrowed his eyes and frowned and answered Aramis with a growl.

Aramis laughed and then taking pity on his friend he stopped and smiled reassuringly, "Don't worry you'll soon get used to riding for hours on end"

"How do you do it?" groaned Porthos,

Aramis chuckled and slowed his horse until he was riding side-by-side with Porthos, "I basically grew up in the saddle. It's never bothered me riding for hours"

"Lucky you" muttered Porthos.

Aramis barked another laugh; he stopped when he saw the glare directed at him, "Sorry"

"No you're not" retorted Porthos shifting again trying to find a comfortable way to sit in his saddle.

"No I'm not" smirked Aramis, "But I thought you'd appreciate me saying sorry"

Porthos was about to complain when Aramis' horse gave a nervous twitch of its head and Aramis held up a hand stopping Porthos from speaking. All the laughter faded from Aramis' face only to be replaced by the serious face of an experienced soldier, Aramis held onto the reigns with one hand and with his other he gripped the bag containing the letter. Despite only having been on patrols and two other assignments Porthos had learnt to become wary when Aramis went into his serious mode.

"What's wrong?" whispered Porthos as his eyes darted around trying to spot any potential danger amongst the trees.

"I'm not sure, but something isn't right" responded Aramis in a low voice.

Porthos frowned in confusion, "So you've gone on the alert because your horse has become nervous?"

Aramis gave Porthos a quick glance, "Yes horses can spook easily, but they can also sense things we cannot. One thing you need to learn is if you can't see anything that would be a reason for your horse spooking then there is something wrong you need to be on the alert for".

Porthos nodded and before he could say anything else a shout could be heard and from the trees emerged a group of five young men holding up swords, if Porthos was honest they were really only teenagers. Barely out of childhood.

"Hand over your money and we won't hurt you!" called one of the boys who appeared to be the leader.

Aramis and Porthos shared a look and Aramis rolled his eyes and dismounted. Aramis walked forward until he was about ten paces away from the boys. "Out of the way boy, you don't want to do this" he calmly commented.

"Didn't you hear me?! Hand over your money!" demanded the leader as he pointed his sword at Aramis.

Aramis heaved a sigh, "I did warn you" and then he drew his own sword.

Porthos dismounted and began fighting the other boys so they wouldn't completely surround Aramis. Porthos had managed to push aside two boys and was fighting another, who if he was taught properly, could become a brilliant swordsman. He parried the blows of his opponent expertly but the boy had a lucky opening and slashed Porthos' fighting arm. Porthos hissed in pain and seeing the boy grinning triumphantly he narrowed his eyes and forcibly shoved the boy to the ground with his sword at the boys' neck. The boy looked up at him wide eyed and his two friends crouched not far away with terrified looks in their eyes.

"Don't get over confident. I could kill you if I wanted" growled Porthos. He then hoisted the boy to his feet with his good arm. He looked over to Aramis and saw his friend fighting the two remaining boys at the same time and didn't look as if he was putting any effort into the fight. Aramis turned to Porthos briefly and yawned.

"This is getting tiresome" sighed Aramis, and then with one movement of his sword he knocked the two boys' swords out of their hands and onto the ground. "Never underestimate _anyone_ wearing a blue cloak like ours. If it were someone else you had fought, it might have been the last thing you ever did. Musketeers are expert swordsmen" warned Aramis seriously.

The leader of the group of boys gaped in shock, "You're _Musketeers_?!" Porthos and Aramis nodded, the boys took one more look at them and then fled.

Aramis caught hold of the leader and handed him some money, "Get a proper meal for yourself and your friends' lad. You look half starved". The boy smiled in thanks and Aramis patted his shoulder before he let the boy go.

After watching the boys leave Aramis turned to Porthos and spotted blood staining the sleeve of his shirt. "You're hurt!" exclaimed Aramis as he swiftly walked over to Porthos.

"It is barley a scratch" shrugged Porthos, he hissed when Aramis began prodding at his wound.

"Nevertheless it will require stitches. Come on I'm taking you to the nearest Inn" commented Aramis as he walked back to his horse and hoisted himself into his saddle.

"I'm not having some nitwit Innkeeper sew my arm!" protested Porthos as he climbed onto his own horse.

Aramis looked affronted, "Of course not!" Porthos relaxed, but tensed when Aramis continued, "I'm going to sew your wound" and then Aramis was trotting up the road leaving a gaping Porthos behind.

"I'd rather the Innkeeper did it!" bellowed Porthos. When he got no reply he reluctantly followed Aramis at a slower pace, but kept his friend in sight in case they ran into any more trouble.

* * *

Porthos was sat in a chair at an Inn and nervously watched as Aramis collected his sewing kit and a bottle of wine. Aramis caught sight of Porthos' nervous look and chuckled.

"No need to look so worried Porthos. I know what I am doing I have done this hundreds of times" soothed Aramis,

"And have any of those men lived to tell the tale?" retorted Porthos as he clutched his wounded arm to his chest.

Aramis dramatically held the back of his hand to his forehead, "You wound me Porthos!"

"I would if that meant you couldn't sew my arm!" commented Porthos,

Aramis rolled his eyes, "Stop being so dramatic and relax" he held out the bottle of wine to Porthos, "Now for the half and half treatment"

"The half and half _what_?" asked Porthos warily as he held the bottle.

"Treatment" stated Aramis, "Half in your belly and half on your wound" and he tipped the bottle so half the wine emptied into Porthos' mouth. While Porthos was busy trying to swallow the wine Aramis dumped the rest of the wine over the wound. Porthos swallowed the wine and let loose a string of curse words.

"Now that wasn't very polite" chided Aramis with a small smile as he threaded the needle and promptly started to sew Porthos' wound. Five stitches later Aramis cut the thread and smiled at Porthos, "There that wasn't so bad now was it?"

Porthos glared at Aramis, "Not that bad?! It _hurt_! You were sticking a _needle_ through my _skin_!"

"Now when you say it like that" joked Aramis rolling his eyes as he began putting his sewing kit away in his bag.

Porthos glared at his friend's back and then glanced down at his arm angrily and then widened his eyes. His mouth dropped open at the sight that met him. Five neat stitches in a row had closed his wound together.

"This could have been done by a seamstress" breathed Porthos,

Aramis turned and grinning bowed to Porthos, "Thank you for the compliment my friend"

"How?" uttered Porthos looking from Aramis to his wound.

"I told you I knew what I was doing" grinned Aramis, "Now come on we've been delayed long enough we need to get back to Paris" and then Aramis left the room to go and pay the Innkeeper for the wine.

"But…" stammered Porthos still staring at Aramis' retreating back. He couldn't comprehend how Aramis could stitch so neatly. But then again, this was Aramis; the man was full of surprises. So Porthos realized that nothing should surprise him when it came to Aramis. Shaking his head smiling Porthos followed his friend and groaned when he sat back in the saddle. Any gratitude he felt towards Aramis faded into annoyance when Aramis began laughing at Porthos' uncomfortable expression when he settled into the saddle. This was going to be a long return to Paris.

**TBC**


	4. Skirmish – 1624

Porthos and Aramis were heading to Arras in a troop of the Musketeers; there had been reports of bandits attacking the town and stealing money and food. Porthos was brimming with excitement; this would be the first big fight he would be getting involved in. He hadn't done anything yet as a member of a troop. Aramis, who was riding beside him, gave him a side glance and smirked, he knew what Porthos was thinking. In the year since Porthos had saved Aramis, they had become more than friends, even more than best friends. They were brothers in all but blood. There was nothing they wouldn't do for each other. Porthos shot Aramis a toothy grin and Aramis grew serious for a moment.

"I know you are excited at the prospect of fighting. But be careful and watch yourself. Things can get messy in a fight like the one we are bound to have. You think being surrounded by fellow Musketeers you would be safe. But things happen quickly. One minute you have two friends either side of you and the next you are standing alone" Aramis gave Porthos a steady stare, empathising his point.

Porthos sobered and thought about how he didn't like the look currently in Aramis' eyes. "That sounds like the voice of experience" he commented.

Aramis nodded and sighed, "I have been in my fair share of fights, you can plan for every eventuality but something always happens. Something you hadn't considered and your plans are worth nothing. _That_ is why thinking on your feet is a must in battle. But since becoming a Musketeer my fortunes in battle have been much improved"

Porthos frowned at Aramis' last words. Aramis had talked to Porthos very little about his life prior to joining the Musketeers. Porthos knew Aramis' mother and father, Rosaline and Colbert, were still living in the village near Le Mans where Aramis grew up. Aramis had even promised to take him there once they had some long leave. But other than Aramis' parents and his year in the Musketeers without Porthos, Porthos knew very little about Aramis.

"So you were a soldier before joining the Musketeers?" asked Porthos, he leaned forward slightly in his saddle he really hoped Aramis wouldn't change the subject as he was prone to do.

"Yes" admitted Aramis; he blinked and turned his head so he was looking straight ahead. "I became a soldier in 1620. The first year was amazing, I loved it and that's when I started to work on my shooting."

"And the second year?" questioned Porthos softly, he watched as Aramis temporarily shut his eyes.

"Not so good" whispered Aramis. His eyes flickered over to Porthos and then back to in front of him.

"Aramis?" Porthos pushed his horse on so he was just a little ahead of Aramis and could look his brother in the eye.

Aramis sighed, "I managed to join the same Regiment as my older cousin Victor. He wasn't pleased when he saw me; he was always like my older brother and hadn't wanted a soldier's life for me. But I was never contented to just live the life of a simple farmer. He was the one who taught me how to use a musket." Aramis smiled softly at the memory of Victor's gentle teaching and Victor's smile when Aramis continuously hit the centre of the target. "But in 1621 we were involved in the Siege of Montauban. I was injured and Victor protected me. He was killed" Aramis bowed his head and tried to keep the memories away.

Porthos sat wide eyed and stared at his friend. He had heard stories of that battle, in the Court wounded soldiers had lived there and told him the horrors of the battle and how the Huguenots defeated them. Seeing the look on Aramis' face he knew what Aramis was thinking and said, "It wasn't your fault"

Aramis slowly looked up and met Porthos' steady gaze, "After that I neither cared if I lived or died. At the Siege of Royan I came across Treville and he offered me a place in a new Regiment, The Musketeers. I accepted because I'd lost Victor and most of my friends and so had no reason to stay in my first Regiment. I went home and told my parents. My mother tried to convince me to give up the life of a soldier, I think seeing the scar of my injury frightened her. Especially when she realized Victor died saving me, without him I would have died. But my father, he looked me straight in the eye and asked if this was what I really wanted. I said yes and then he let me go. That was the last time I was home"

Porthos placed a hand on Aramis' arm, "You miss them" it wasn't even a question.

"Yes" breathed Aramis, "I wish they lived closer so I could see them more, the occasional letter can only do so much. But I will not ask them to leave the village. My father spent his whole life there and my mother would not want to move a long distance again"

"They would not do that for you?" asked Porthos in confusion,

"Oh they would" assured Aramis, "But I know they wouldn't be happy and so I would not ask it of them. And the thought of them living anywhere else does not seem right"

Before Porthos could comment one of the leading Musketeers shouted out an alarm as a huge number of bandits came pouring down the road from both directions.

"And so it begins" commented Aramis as he turned his horse sharply to meet the half of the bandits who were coming behind them. Porthos followed him; the thought that without Victor he would never have met Aramis unsettled him. He wanted to stay close to Aramis the thought of living life without his brother was just wrong. Aramis cantered his horse until he was in front and shouted orders at the half of the troop of Musketeers who were near to the bandits coming from behind.

Time stood still for Porthos; he was shocked at the sounds of clashing metal, muskets being fired and men shouting. He tried to keep an eye on Aramis but it was becoming difficult. He was moving his sword left and right over his horse's neck to kill any bandits that came too close. He constantly flickered his gaze over to Aramis who was still shouting the occasional order. The bandits seemed to realize that Aramis was the leader of this group of Musketeers and most of them converged on Aramis and pulled him from his horse.

"Aramis!" yelled Porthos as he tried to push his horse through the mass of bandits. But he didn't get any closer to his fallen brother.

_You can plan for every eventuality but something always happens. Something you hadn't considered and your plans are worth nothing._

Porthos shuddered at Aramis' words from not that long ago. Aramis was right. Porthos had planned to stick close to Aramis, but that plan had fallen through. Then he remembered something else Aramis had said.

_That__ is why thinking on your feet is a must in battle._

Porthos then had an idea. He kicked his horse in a way that encouraged it to rear. Its flailing front hoofs caused the bandits to move back or face getting hit in the head with a hoof and getting killed. A gap was created and Porthos moved his horse forward. It was then he managed to catch a glimpse of Aramis.

Aramis was fighting alongside Alexandre, who had also been pulled from his horse. Aramis had blood on his forehead from when his head had connected with the ground, his hat was off his head and his face was darkened with mud but otherwise was unharmed.

Porthos breathed a sigh of relief and then became engrossed in the fight again; he looked for Aramis again but couldn't see him anywhere. _That doesn't mean anything. That doesn't mean he is lying on the ground injured or worse. He's __fine__._

* * *

Once the fight had ended with the majority of the bandits killed and the others taken in for questioning. It was learned that there were no more bandits so once the wounded had been taken care of, the Musketeers could return to Paris.

Porthos was searching everywhere for Aramis and the more time he went without seeing his friend he began to worry. Just when he despaired of finding Aramis alive he found him tending to the wounded. The tension bled out of Porthos and he leaned against a post thankful that he had found Aramis alive. But then he looked closer and saw Aramis was limping. He looked closer still and saw Aramis had tied his blue sash around his left leg just above his knee.

Porthos stood and waited and watched. Aramis continued to ignore his own injury and cared for the other wounded Musketeers. Alexandre tried to get Aramis to at least sit down but Aramis brushed him off. Porthos then moved forward and grasped Aramis' arm. Aramis spun around in shock; he would have fallen over if it wasn't for the grip Porthos had on his arm.

"Porthos? Are you hurt?" questioned Aramis as he tried to assess Porthos' state.

"No" replied Porthos, "But you are"

"I'll be fine" shrugged Aramis as he attempted to pull his arm from Porthos' grip.

"Aramis" growled Porthos, "You need to sit down and let Alexandre take a look at your leg"

"No I'm fine" protested Aramis, he turned sharply and the movement caused pain to flare up his leg. All the colour drained from his face and he began to fall. Porthos caught Aramis and gently laid him down on a spare stretcher that was lying nearby.

Porthos rested a hand on Aramis' forehead and pulled it back quickly in shock. He tentively replaced his hand and was dismayed to feel Aramis had a fever.

"Alexandre!" called Porthos, "Aramis has a fever!"

Alexandre rushed over and pulled back the sash on Aramis' leg. Porthos shuddered, Aramis had been shot in the leg and the musket ball was still in the wound, which also had dirt surrounding it. Porthos cursed, he may not be as good as Aramis when it came to injuries. But even he knew dirt in a wound could lead to infections, which led to fevers. Which in some cases led to death.

Alexandre looked up at Porthos seriously, "We need to get him inside now and remove the musket ball and clean this wound out before things get any worse".

Porthos nodded and between them they carried Aramis over to a cart which had been brought up from the nearby village. Porthos climbed in next to Aramis, when Alexandre mounted his horse and lead Porthos' along. Porthos sat by Aramis' head and was dismayed to see sweat already forming across Aramis' brow.

"Why did you leave this wound so long without cleaning it Aramis?" whispered Porthos, he did not expect an answer, but he got one.

"Wasn't that bad" murmured Aramis, "Others were worse"

"Yours has_ become_ worse! Because you did _nothing_!" snapped Porthos. Aramis flinched, and Porthos soothed him by running his hands through Aramis' hair. "It's alright brother, it's going to be alright".

"'M sorr' Portho' but I didn' wan' other Muskete'rs to die becaus' I hadn' tended to them" slurred Aramis.

Porthos held one of Aramis' hands and shushed him. He tried not to dwell on the slurring of Aramis' voice because he knew that wasn't good. Aramis then fell into an uneasy sleep, he twitched and moaned and muttered panicky words in Spanish. All Porthos could do was soothe him the best he could, all the while blinking back tears.

* * *

Soon Alexandre, Porthos and Aramis were in an upstairs room of the nearest Inn. The local physician had arrived and was helping Alexandre with the wounded Aramis. Porthos was still sat by his friend's head offering comfort when Aramis became distressed within his fever dreams.

Alexandre looked over at Porthos and nodded, telling Porthos that they were about to take out the musket ball and clean the wound. Something that was going to be very painful for Aramis, especially as he had not been conscious enough to drink some wine to take the edge off things.

While Porthos had been prepared for Aramis' reaction, nothing could have made him prepare for the scream that came out of Aramis. Porthos clenched his eyes shut and held down on Aramis' shoulders. He hated it, he was a part of something that was causing his best friend and brother pain and he wanted to stop it. Soon Aramis' screams merged into words.

"Make it stop! _Please_ Victor! _Make it stop_!"

Porthos folded into himself more, Aramis was calling for his dead cousin who had been like an older brother to him. That was enough for Porthos.

"Stop! Just stop!" he ordered, but Alexandre and the physician continued their work. "Can't you see it's too painful for him?! At least give him a rest! _Stop_!"

Alexandre then shared a look with the physician and then moved so he was beside Porthos. He pulled Porthos away.

"What are you doing?!" growled Porthos,

"You're not helping Porthos!" retorted Alexandre, "I want to give Aramis a rest but we can't! If we don't care for his wound as quickly as possible he is going to _die_!"

Porthos looked back down at his friend. Aramis was sweating and clenching and unclenching his hands while pleading for Victor and Porthos to make the pain stop. Porthos clenched his eyes shut and was torn, on the one hand he knew this needed to be done to save Aramis' life, but on the other hand Aramis was begging for him to make it stop.

"Go Porthos" ordered Alexandre,

"But-" started Porthos wide eyed,

"I know you want to be here for him, but this needs to be done and at this rate you're going to stop us from working and it will only cause harm. Go" Alexandre commented, "I will come and get you once we're finished"

Porthos looked back at Aramis and then let Alexandre push him out of the door. Porthos stumbled out of the Inn and slid down the wall and rested his head on his knees with his arms wrapped around his legs. He stayed like that for a while, trying to get Aramis' screams out of his head. When a hat was dropped onto his feet. He peeked over his knees to see Aramis' hat perched on his feet; he looked up to see Marsac looking down at him.

"When I found this lying in the middle of the road I knew something had gone wrong. Seeing you like this has only proven it" commented Marsac. The unspoken question _is he still alive?_ Was still heard by Porthos.

"Alexandre is seeing to him. He says he'll be fine eventually. But I couldn't stand hearing Aramis scream in pure agony anymore" Porthos softly said.

"Screaming?" asked Marsac as he stood more alert, "Whenever he's been wounded in the past Aramis has _never_ screamed"

"He has a fever and was barely conscious, we couldn't give him any wine for the fear of him choking on it" replied Porthos.

Marsac nodded and then patted Porthos' shoulder before he turned to go and help the other wounded. Soon after Alexandre came and found Porthos, he smiled and nodded. Porthos rushed to his feet and picked up the hat and hastily ran up the stairs to Aramis' room.

He slowly entered the room and made his way over to the bed. Aramis was still pale with sweat sticking to his forehead, his hands were still tightly clutching the bed sheets and he was still muttering under his breath.

Porthos got a chair and moved it so he was sat close to Aramis' head, he placed Aramis' hat on a bedside table where a bowl of water and a cloth was. Porthos dipped the cloth in the water and placed it on Aramis' forehead.

Aramis blinked his eyes open and looked up at Porthos in wonder, "You're here"

"Where else would I be?" asked Porthos as he tried to not cry in relief of seeing Aramis awake and talking.

"Everyone who helps me ends up getting hurt" mumbled Aramis, "Didn't want you getting hurt. That's why I did nothing about my wound"

"Oh Aramis" sighed Porthos, "What happened to Victor wasn't your fault. It wasn't your injury that led to his death." Aramis closed his eyes and turned his head away, Porthos held it firmly, but gently. "Look at me Aramis" he softly ordered, slowly Aramis reopened his eyes. "It wasn't your fault. Promise me something"

Aramis nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak.

"_Never_ hide or leave a wound unchecked. Clear?" ordered Porthos. Aramis nodded again and Porthos relaxed, he never wanted to see Aramis in this state again. Seeing Aramis' eyes beginning to droop Porthos smiled and said, "Go to sleep, you need to rest".

Porthos continued his vigil beside Aramis' bed for three more days until Aramis' fever broke; Porthos was relieved because Aramis no longer had to be forced to relive Victor's death in his fever dreams. He knew sometimes he replaced Victor and it would take him longer to soothe Aramis and prove that his dreams weren't real. Two days after that Alexandre deemed Aramis well enough to travel back to Paris, but in a cart. Aramis hadn't been too happy about that.

So Porthos had tethered his and Aramis' horses to the back of the cart and sat beside Aramis the whole way back to Paris to keep him company.

Once they were back in Paris Porthos stayed with Aramis until he was sure that his friend wouldn't try and walk down the stairs before he was ready and fall and break his neck. He also stayed to make sure Aramis wouldn't attempt to walk to the garrison, because Aramis had a week's leave to rest and heal.

"If I have leave because I was wounded" frowned a frustrated Aramis, "Then why do you also have a week's leave?"

Porthos leaned back in his chair and smiled, "Technically I _don't _have a week's leave"

"Then why are you here?" snapped Aramis, Porthos wasn't taking his bad mood personally, Aramis hated being cooped up inside and in his frustration lashed out at the nearest person.

"Treville put me on a certain duty called, 'make sure Aramis doesn't kill himself trying to do something while his leg is still healing'" stated Porthos. He burst out laughing when Aramis growled in frustration and slid further into his chair pulling his hat over his eyes with his arms crossed. Aramis didn't need to ask if Treville had really called Porthos' 'duty' that name, because he knew the man well enough to know Treville would have said that. And Aramis intended Treville to pay for it.

**TBC**


	5. Two become Three – 1625

Porthos was sat at the table in the courtyard of the garrison and was staring at the newest member of the Musketeers. He and Aramis had tried everything to befriend Athos but they were continuously brushed off. They had shown him around the garrison and the best taverns, but Athos had remained indifferent to their efforts of offering friendship. After a week Porthos had given up, thinking that if Athos wanted to be alone then that was fine with him. While he never liked to pass judgment on a person until he knew them, he was annoyed at Athos. Athos refused any and all attempts of friendship by Porthos, Aramis and the entire Regiment, but everyone gravitated to him despite him only having been in the Regiment a month. In the past the Musketeers had looked to Aramis for leadership and now they all looked to Athos. Aramis wasn't bothered about this, but Porthos could not forgive this, even if it was not completely Athos' fault. He figured it was because Athos was obviously from a noble family and had that air of authority about him. While Porthos had given up befriending Athos, Aramis on the other hand continued to endeavour to gain Athos' friendship.

Porthos startled a bit when Aramis suddenly dropped down onto the chair beside him. "You know staring at Athos like that anyone would think you don't like him"

"I _don't_ like him" muttered Porthos, as he continued to stare as Athos practised his sword movements alone. As usual.

Aramis sighed, "Just give him a chance Porthos. It took you awhile to find your footing here"

Porthos snapped his gaze to Aramis and growled, "_I_ didn't act as if I owned the place!"

Aramis leaned forward so his elbows rested on the table with his head in his hands and turned his head a little so he could see Porthos. "He doesn't act like that Porthos"

"Everyone grovels before him!" exclaimed Porthos angrily, although not loud enough for Athos to hear.

Aramis groaned into his hands, "Why are you acting so angry?"

"Why are you acting so calm?!" retorted Porthos,

"This is nothing to be angry about" stated Aramis, still with his face rested in his hands.

"_You_ were the one everyone went to for advice and for leadership. Then _he_ shows up and suddenly he's _better_ than you! With his background he wouldn't have been a soldier, he's been a soldier for _a month_ and suddenly _that's_ better than the _five years_ you've been a soldier!" hissed Porthos as he leaned closer towards Aramis.

"While I thank you for your faith in me Porthos, you can't possibly be angry at Athos for that" said Aramis, he then peeked at Porthos from behind his hands and then seeing Porthos' face continued, "Apparently you can".

"Why won't you say or do anything?" asked Porthos, he flickered his gaze from Aramis to Athos and back to Aramis.

"And say _what_ exactly? The men choose who they follow Porthos I can't make them follow me" countered Aramis. "Athos is from a background only we can _dream_ of. He is undoubtedly from high nobility and therefore a position of authority. Obviously the men appreciate and value that"

"Then they are _fools_" argued Porthos, "They are fools if they value authority over experience"

"Porthos let it go" sighed Aramis as he rubbed his eyes, "There is nothing you nor I can do about this"

"Once he has gained a few years' experience of soldiering _then_ I will consider what he says. But not before then. I have been a solider for two years and even I do not hand out advice, I go to _you_ because I know I can trust your judgment. He has been a soldier for a month"

"So you have said" commented Aramis dryly as he allowed his head to drop until it rested on the table.

"It's a little early to be drinking Aramis! You should be like Athos and wait until night to drink until you can drink no more!" called Gilbert as he passed through the courtyard.

Aramis felt Porthos tense and without raising his head warned, "_Porthos_"

"He's saying you should be more like _Athos_" spat Porthos as he frowned at Gilbert's back.

"Let it go" stated Aramis, "Before you explode from your _barely_ contained anger".

Porthos huffed in annoyance and went back to staring at Athos and then Aramis. Aramis left his head on the table not wanting to deal with Porthos' foul mood any longer but not wanting to move.

"Athos!" Porthos and Aramis looked up to see Treville stood on the walkway looking down at the courtyard. Athos stopped what he was doing and looked up at the Captain. "Raoul is sick and can't go on patrol with you"

"That is fine, I will go on my own" responded Athos.

Porthos muttered under his breath something about bad soldiering until Aramis (who had rested his head on the table once again) elbowed him in the side.

Treville shook his head, "No one goes on patrol alone" Treville glanced at the Musketeers in the courtyard and saw Porthos and Aramis were the only ones without duties. Seeing the stormy look on Porthos' face he then called out, "Aramis! Go on patrol with Athos. You will be patrolling the Palace gardens" Treville then disappeared back into his office.

Aramis sat up and locked gazes with Athos, Athos then turned to gather his cloak and sword. Aramis picked his cloak up from the chair beside him and moved to stand up but was stopped by Porthos gripping his arm.

"Porthos I have to go" commented Aramis, as he tried to pull his arm from his friend's grasp.

"I don't like this. I don't trust him, what if something happens?" questioned Porthos,

"Then I, being the grown up Musketeer that I am, will deal with it. Honestly Porthos one would think you are insulting my fighting abilities" joked Aramis in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Porthos merely scowled more, "Just be careful" he muttered as he finally released Aramis' arm

"I'm always careful" smiled Aramis reassuringly; he walked behind Porthos and clapped him on the shoulder.

Porthos then watched as his friend left with Athos and then wondered what he was going to do for the next three hours. Worry most likely.

* * *

Porthos was pacing the garrison courtyard as if he was a caged animal. Aramis and Athos were due back ten minutes ago and he vowed if Athos had allowed something to happen to Aramis then he was going to beat Athos to a pulp.

As he turned he was facing the entrance to the courtyard and spotted Athos and Aramis walking towards him. He was not relieved; Aramis was soaked from head to foot and was attempting to shake water from his hat. So something had happened, and only to Aramis, for Athos was bone dry. And it looked as if his mouth was twitching as if he was about to smile. That only fuelled Porthos' anger.

"What happened?" demanded Porthos as he strode across the courtyard until he was directly in front of the others. Aramis looked at him through wet hair that was plastered to his face.

"There were two intruders and we chased them." Began Aramis as he grabbed his cloak and wrung it out while it was still on his shoulders. "The one I was chasing shoved me into a fountain. He then began trying to hit me over the head with a rock"

"And where you?" growled Porthos, the image of Aramis being struck over the head with a rock was now embedded into his mind and he shuddered at the thought of what would have happened.

"Porthos" warned Aramis as he shook his head so the hair in front of his eyes moved out of the way.

Athos placed a hand on Aramis' shoulder letting him know it was alright, he understood Porthos' demand. "I was passing the second intruder over to the Red Guards. Then I ran over and caught the first intruder and handed him over to the Red Guards."

Porthos nodded, but still continued to frown.

"Porthos you could at least stop frowning!" exclaimed Aramis, "Even Athos cracked a smile! Yes it was at my expense but I think the way I was flailing about in the fountain avoiding the rock must have been an interesting scene. I'm just thankful the King and Queen were nowhere in sight. That would have been an interesting explanation"

Porthos then cracked a smile and nodded his thanks at Athos. Athos tilted his head in acknowledgment and then left saying he was going to go and make a report to Treville. Porthos looked back at Aramis and sighed shaking his head.

"What is that sigh for?!" grumbled Aramis as he ruffled his hair to get rid of the drops of water hanging at the ends of his hair.

"What am I going to do with you?" questioned Porthos, "Something always happens to you"

"It does _not_!" protested Aramis frowning.

"Alright not always. But _most _of the time" amended Porthos grinning. Aramis rolled his eyes, which only caused Porthos to laugh. "Come on let's get you back to your lodgings, I don't need you catching a chill and then getting moody about not being allowed outside"

"Moody? I do _not_ get _moody_!" squawked Aramis, he then placed his hat on his head, but because it had joined Aramis in the fountain it was drooping at the sides only causing Porthos to burst out laughing.

Aramis sighed and rolling his eyes turned around and walked out of the garrison. Porthos smiled and shook his head in fondness and then followed his bedraggled friend to make sure Aramis took care of himself properly. While Aramis was the best in caring for ill or wounded people, he was not the best when it came to looking after himself. But Porthos did not mind looking after Aramis, Aramis already did so much for everyone else, Porthos was happy to be the one who kept Aramis together. And perhaps he had gained Athos in helping him watch Aramis' back; well three was better than two.

**TBC**

* * *

**A/N While Athos has now joined the story the emphasis will still be on the friendship of Aramis and Porthos. And thank you for all the favourites, follows and reviews they mean a lot!**


	6. Savoy – 1625

**A/N In this chapter I make references to the ranks of the Musketeers, because I don't actually know the ranking system I have just gone with Treville being the Captain of the Regiment and has Lieutenants who are in charge of the troops. I am sorry if this is wrong but I am only guessing, if someone actually knows how the ranks worked please let me know and I will sort it out.**

**I'm also going for multiple POV's for this chapter.**

* * *

Porthos leaned against a post that was next to the stall in which Aramis' horse was kept, Aramis was busy tacking up his horse. The mare nudged Aramis' arm and sniffed his pocket, chuckling Aramis stroked her nose and pushed it gently away.

"Sorry Bella, but I don't have any treats" said Aramis as he fondly stroked Bella's neck. Bella, or Isabella as was her full name, had been one of his father's farm horses. But was a gift to Aramis from his father the last time he had been home and announced he was joining the Musketeers. Colbert had given her to Aramis stating that a great soldier needed a great horse and Aramis had taken the reins of the two year old and vowed to live up to his father's expectations. Aramis had been with Colbert when Isabella had been born and had helped looked after the foal before he followed Victor into his first Regiment. He'd named the mare Isabella (the Spanish name he would have had been called if he had been a girl) to placate his mother in the hopes she would eventually forgive him for becoming a soldier. When he had returned home in 1622 Isabella had remembered her young master and quickly they had struck up their close bond once again, this was the reason Colbert had chosen her to give to Aramis.

Porthos smiled seeing the interaction between Aramis and Isabella, it always astounded him how Aramis could be an effective swordfighter, and in some degree a killer, but always be so kind and gentle to human or animal. But his smiled faded when he remembered why Aramis was tacking Bella up.

Aramis caught sight of the look on Porthos' face, "Now there is no need to be sad Porthos. I'll only be gone for two weeks and it's just a simple training exercise" smiled Aramis reassuringly.

"But you shouldn't even be going!" protested Porthos, he hated when he was separated from Aramis. Aramis was more or less his brother and therefore his only family (Athos was _almost_ considered a brother) so he wanted to stay beside Aramis so he didn't lose him.

"Porthos" sighed Aramis, he finished tacking up Bella and then stood in front of Porthos, "You know with Erneste suddenly needed on another assignment someone has to lead his troop's training exercise. And with no other Lieutenant available Marsac and I are the next ranking soldiers because we have been with the Regiment since it was formed"

"I know all that" frowned Porthos, "But it doesn't mean I have to like it" Aramis looked at him sympathetically, he understood why Porthos hated for them to be separated but he didn't have a choice in the matter. Treville had been adamant that Erneste's troop have a training exercise near to Mâcon which was near the border with Savoy, and with the troop's Lieutenant on another important assignment someone needed to led the troop and so Treville had ordered Aramis and Marsac to led the exercise. Porthos had even tried to get himself assigned on the exercise but Treville had refused him stating he was not assigned to Erneste's troop and so he had no reason to go.

"Everything will be alright Porthos, it's just two weeks" smiled Aramis, he then turned and began leading Bella out to the courtyard where Marsac was already mounted on his horse and the troop were beginning to mount their own horses.

Surveying the gathered Musketeers Aramis spotted Francis and grinning called out, "How's Susanne and your little four month old baby girl then Francis?"

"They're doing well thank you Aramis" replied Francis, "Susanne has taken to motherhood like a duck to water and Elisabeth is just perfect"

Aramis smiled in response, Porthos grinned up at Francis. Not many of the Musketeers married and had families so when someone did the rest of the Regiment liked to be kept up to date with the news of the wife and children.

Treville appeared and spotted Francis, "You do not need to go Francis, with a young baby I am sure you would rather spend the time with your wife and daughter"

Francis smiled but shook his head, "Susanne doesn't say anything but I know I keep getting in the way so I thought I'd give her two weeks break from me getting underfoot"

Treville nodded; "Very well" he then cast his gaze over the troop and then retreated back up to his office. Porthos assumed Treville had important paperwork that needed his attention, most likely due to some of the Musketeers duelling with the Red Guards; of course neither he nor Aramis had anything to do with that if Treville asked.

Athos wandered over and stood beside Porthos and looked up at Aramis, "I trust you'll take care of yourself", like Porthos, Athos quickly caught on that Aramis neglected to look after himself in favour of making sure everyone else was well.

Aramis rolled his eyes, "Yes mother. I'll even comb my hair before I go to bed"

Usually Porthos laughed when Aramis made a joke, but this time he didn't. Instead he tugged on Aramis' foot and glared up at his friend. "Hey, be serious for once in your life!"

"I am being serious!" retorted Aramis, but still seeing the almost depressed looks on his friends' faces he gave them a small smile and said, "Don't worry. I've been a soldier longer than either of you, even with the lengths of your services combined. I know what I'm doing, trust me?"

"Always" responded Porthos with no hesitation, Athos just merely nodded, but he never said much anyway.

"Aramis!" called Marsac, "Everyone is ready to go"

Aramis nodded and waved at Marsac telling him to move out. He turned back to his friends smiling and waved at them before he turned Bella around and began walking out of the courtyard. He caught sight of Treville looking at them from a window, he turned slightly in his saddle and waved up at Treville grinning and then he trotted Bella on to catch up with Marsac who was at the front of the troop.

Porthos and Athos stood side by side in the courtyard until the troop was out of sight, they sighed and realized how quiet the garrison already was without Aramis' jokes and sarcastic comments and the laughter caused by both. They were going to have to live through two very quiet weeks. For Porthos it was going to be the longest he had been parted from Aramis since he joined the Musketeers and he hoped this would never happen again.

* * *

Treville gripped the windowsill as he watched the troop leave the courtyard, and he had to blink back tears as he watched the Musketeers laugh and talk happily not knowing they were being sent to face an ambush. Like lambs going to slaughter.

He reflected on how lucky Erneste was that he had been needed for another assignment. But the tears threatened to fall when he looked at Francis; he had tried to keep Francis from going for the sake of his wife and young daughter, and when he looked at Aramis.

When Aramis turned to wave up at him grinning broadly he bowed his head, while all his men held places in his heart, Aramis' place was a little bigger. He remembered how he had come across Aramis at Royan; Aramis was young at the age of 22 and had a blank look of grief in his eyes. Treville learnt how Aramis had first lost his cousin and then his friends, he had also seen how Aramis didn't care if he lived or died. So Treville had endeavoured to help this young man and seeing his skill with a musket and a sword quickly offered him a place in the new Regiment, the King's Musketeers. It had been a slow process but eventually the blank look vanished from Aramis' eyes to be replaced with a mischievous glint, a look that fitted Aramis better.

So watching Aramis ride off to face an ambush that would be led by the Duke of Savoy broke a piece of Treville's heart. He looked down to see Porthos and Athos watching Aramis leave and shuddered, he dreaded seeing their reactions to the news of the ambush when it came. Despite only having been in the Regiment for a few months Athos had relaxed slightly and that was because of Aramis' friendship, Treville knew Athos held Aramis in high regard. Treville's eyes then rested on Porthos, should Aramis fall, he knew the Regiment would likely loose Porthos either through anger or grief. But he knew Porthos would go looking for a fight and would most likely get himself killed.

As the troop faded from view Treville looked up at the sky and prayed to God that he would at least spare the lives of Francis and Aramis, the two who were leaving the most behind. One who had a wife and a daughter he need to watch grow up and the other who had friends and parents who counted on his return.

* * *

Aramis stumbled through the trees and snow back to the camp after watching Marsac leave. All the horses had bolted, but Marsac had managed to call his horse back to him and left. Aramis shivered as the cold sank into his bones and threatened to bring him to his knees. He leaned heavily on the trees for support and slowly and painfully made his way to the centre of the camp. All around him his friends were strewn across the camp, some looking as if they were still asleep if it wasn't for the blood around their necks, and the rest still with their swords gripped in their hands.

Twenty had fallen. Twenty of his friends, of his adopted family. Silently he turned around and looked at the faces of the eight Musketeers nearest to him.

Antoine, Odon, Jean, Bernard, Alexandre, Gilbert, Raoul and… Francis.

Aramis' eyes widened when he saw Francis staring up at the sky with unseeing eyes. He clenched his eyes shut and willed for this all to be some horrible nightmare, but when he reopened his eyes he found himself still standing in the centre of camp surrounded by his dead friends. He looked back down at Francis and pictured a green eyed little girl who was going to have to grow up without her father. He began to stumble backwards, but his eyes were still fixed on Francis' unmoving body.

_No. Please God no. Not Francis, not him. Susanne and Elisabeth need him. Why him? You should have taken me and spared Francis. You should have spared him not me!_

When he was at the edge of the camp, still walking backwards he tripped on a fallen branch and fell onto his back. He stared up at the sky, as many of his friends had done with their dying breaths. His shoulders began to shake, and not from the cold. Silent tears slipped down his cheeks, they felt like icy streams falling down his face. He heard the crunching of the snow and did not care if it was an assailant who had come to ensure all the Musketeers had been killed. The footsteps stopped beside him and he felt a rush of warm air on his face, he moved his eyes from the sky and found Bella staring down at him. His beloved horse had come back to him, but he did not even have the energy to raise an arm. He knew all he needed to do was grab her reigns and somehow haul himself onto Bella's back and then he could ride to Mâcon and get help and send a message back to Treville. But he was so tired. Black spots danced at the edges of his vision, Bella nickered at him and nudged his head gently but he continued to lie still on the cold, snow covered ground.

He looked up at the sky again and felt his eyes begin to flicker shut and he thought that as he died he was glad he at least had Bella by his side; he would have wanted Porthos and Athos with him. But he knew if they had been here then they would have been killed, no it was better the way things were, with them safe in Paris. At least he still had a living friend to stay with him.

* * *

Porthos stared at Treville in shock; this couldn't be happening it just couldn't. The message in Treville's hand had to be a mistake. The troop of Musketeers on the training exercise hadn't been attacked. Aramis was safe.

"I'm sorry Porthos, but there is no mistake." Said Treville.

"He's not dead. He's _not_. The message doesn't say how many were killed, he can be – he _is_ still alive!" growled Porthos,

Treville sighed, "Even _if_ Aramis had survived the massacre, the cold weather in that area is sure to kill off any survivors. I'm _sorry_ Porthos but I don't hold out much hope for Aramis' return"

"No! You're _wrong_!" bellowed Porthos, "For the message to be sent someone had to have been _there_! They would have helped any survivors!" He refused to call the attack a massacre because then it would only prove how small of a chance Aramis had of surviving the attack.

Treville shook his head, "The messenger said he was merely told by a stranger of the massacre and that a message had to be delivered to me stating that there had been a massacre of Musketeers. The stranger wasn't a Musketeer and the stranger _hadn't _been helping any wounded Musketeers."

"_No_" moaned Porthos as he gripped his hair.

"Porthos" Athos spoke, "We must face facts. Aramis is either dead or wounded, and with the snow he won't be alive for much longer"

"Why are you saying this?!" demanded Porthos angrily, "Don't you _care_?"

"Of course I care!" snapped Athos, "But I am trying to be _realistic_. I do not want to place hope where there is _none_!"

Porthos and Athos had begun shouting at each other and only stopped when Treville ordered them to ride to the site of the massacre and guard their fallen brothers and wait for the carts that were going to be sent.

Once Porthos and Athos had left his office, Treville had slumped in his chair and rested his head in his hands. All the faces of the men who had been sent to Mâcon passed before his eyes and he grieved for the loss. Part of him prayed for a miracle, for the survival of Aramis. But another part of him thought that if the entire troop, but Aramis, had perished would it be kinder for Aramis to have perished alongside them?

* * *

Porthos and Athos halted their horses and gasped at the sight that was in front of them. Their friends were scattered across their campsite, all lying perfectly still, with a dusting of snow covering them with red stained snow surrounding them.

"Aramis" whispered Porthos in shock, how had this happened?

He dismounted and rushed through the campsite glancing at his fallen friends all the while desperately searching for Aramis. Athos was slower in dismounting and slowly went to each of the Musketeers that was lying still and closed all of their eyes. He did not have much hope left of finding Aramis alive and knew should Porthos find Aramis dead then he would want some time alone with his best friend.

"Aramis? _Aramis_?! ARAMIS!" hollered Porthos desperately. He spun his head in all directions desperate to find a sign of his brother. It was then he saw a large figure, looking closer he recognized Aramis' horse Isabella. He walked slowly over to Isabella and realized she was standing guard over something at her feet. Porthos made a choked sound at the back of his throat when he saw that at Isabella's hoofs was not a something, but a some_one_. Someone who was Aramis.

"Aramis!" choked Porthos as he ran the last few feet over to his friend. Isabella snorted in surprise but recognizing Porthos she settled. Porthos skidded to a halt on his knees beside Aramis. He looked closely at his friend who was deathly pale and wasn't even shivering; even Porthos knew that was bad. Aramis had dried blood caked to the side of his head and a rag that was wrapped around his head.

Porthos raised a shaking hand and let it hover over Aramis, he was scared to touch his friend and find out that Aramis had indeed perished in the attack. Porthos clenched his eyes shut and drew a deep breath; he reopened his eyes to find tears stinging the backs of his eyes. Isabella nickered and nudged his hand.

Porthos gave her a small smile and murmured, "Alright girl" and then he lowered his un-gloved hand to Aramis' neck. He flinched feeling the cold skin beneath his fingers and pressed a little, pausing he felt the slow but _steady_ beating of a pulse. "Aramis?" he whispered, he leaned closer and hovered his head by Aramis' mouth and grinned in relief at the sound of Aramis drawing breaths. "You're alive. You're _alive_" Porthos whispered in wonderment as he lifted his head up and ran fingers through Aramis' hair with one hand and with the other he gently gripped Aramis' shoulder.

"Athos!" shouted Porthos, but not taking his gaze away from Aramis, "Athos! He's here! He's _alive_!"

Athos came running and skidded to a halt and wide eyed breathed, "_How_?"

"Does it matter?" responded Porthos looking up at Athos, Athos shook his head and stared at Aramis in wonderment.

Aramis then began to stir and slowly his eyes flickered open, Porthos leaned closer and smiled down at Aramis, his eyes glistening. Aramis' eyes fully opened and darted around before they rested on Porthos.

Porthos squeezed Aramis' hand, "We're here Aramis, we're here" at those words Aramis relaxed and stared up at Porthos.

A few minutes later Aramis was sat propped up against a tree with Porthos' cloak wrapped tightly around him. Porthos sat close beside Aramis and wrapped his arms around Aramis in an attempt to bring warm back into Aramis.

Athos finished checking the fallen Musketeers and looking at Aramis he crouched down directly in Aramis' eye line. "I don't want to ask this Aramis. But I have to ask, where is Marsac?"

Porthos looked down at Aramis' face which was pressed into his shoulder; Aramis didn't say anything but his eyes flickered over to a discarded Musketeer uniform. Athos stood up and retrieved the uniform understanding why he didn't find Marsac with the fallen.

Porthos also understood and cursed, "He _deserted_?!"

Aramis flinched and Porthos hurried to comfort him. It was then decided that Porthos would take Aramis back to Paris on Isabella and Athos would remain with their fallen brothers and wait for the carts.

Soon Aramis was bundled onto Isabella sat in front of Porthos, he leaned back against Porthos' chest and looked up at the sky to avoid looking at the aftermath of the massacre. Porthos nodded at Athos and then began trotting away, once the site of the massacre was out of sight he slowed Isabella to a walk to ensure Aramis wouldn't slip from the horses' back.

* * *

It had been a week since Porthos had returned with Aramis to Paris and Aramis hadn't said a word. He communicated with Porthos through the look in his eyes and that was it. The only time Porthos heard Aramis' voice was when he was screaming while he endured nightmares of the massacre. Porthos would be sat up against Aramis' headboard and tried to soothe his friend back to sleep reassuring that it was over, he was _safe_. Aramis would spend his days sat in a chair by the fireplace and stare into the flames and avoid looking at Porthos as much as he could.

One day Treville came by and tried to get Aramis to talk, but after two hours Treville had to admit defeat. As Treville left Porthos knew he had seen tears in the older man's eyes, he knew it had to be hard for Treville. Aramis and Treville had a close bond which was formed when Treville gave Aramis a will to live again once he joined the Musketeers. Porthos figured this silent Aramis was bringing back bad memories for Treville of a dark time in Aramis' life.

Porthos had also begun to hate Marsac. He knew like everyone else Marsac had deserted, that wasn't what made Porthos hate him he couldn't blame Marsac after witnessing the aftermath of the massacre. What made him hate Marsac was that they learned it was Marsac who sent the messenger to Treville, but he had not taken Aramis to the village to seek help. He had left Aramis in the snow covered forest, wounded, and slowly dying from the cold. That was something Porthos could never forgive Marsac for.

It was time for the funeral for the fallen Musketeers, and Porthos had doubted whether Aramis should go. But on the day of the funeral Aramis stood shakily from his chair and silently walked towards the door of his lodgings with Porthos following dutifully behind.

At the sight of Susanne, Francis' wife, now widow, and baby daughter Elisabeth. Aramis had frozen and then moved away from them with his head down. Once the funeral had ended Aramis seemed to have come out of his state of shock and walked over to Susanne and in a hoarse voice from disuse, promised to help Susanne with whatever she needed.

Susanne thanked Aramis and kissed his cheek before she clutched Elisabeth close to her and walked away from the twenty graves. Aramis then turned to face the graves and soon it was only Aramis and Porthos left. Porthos walked over to stand beside Aramis and looked closely at his friend.

Aramis continued to stare at the graves and murmured in his hoarse voice, "I should be buried there with them"

Porthos shook his head desperately, "Don't say that"

Aramis snapped his gaze up to stare at Porthos and in a weak, but hard voice he spat, "Why not? It's the truth"

Aramis then turned and marched away not looking back, leaving a wide eyed Porthos behind. Porthos looked at the graves and shuddered and then followed Aramis, he knew he wouldn't be welcome at Aramis' lodgings so he made his way back to his own lodgings, which just so happened to be on the same street as Aramis'. At least he was near if Aramis needed him.

**TBC**

* * *

**A/N There is going to be another chapter for the aftermath of the Savoy massacre.**


	7. Still looking for Life – 1625

**A/N This chapter deals with the emotional turmoil for Aramis following the Savoy massacre. The title of this chapter is taken from the song **_**Broken**_** by Lifehouse as I thought it fitted what I think Aramis would be going through. The songs I listened to get the mood of this chapter (if you're interested) were; **_**Broken**_** (Lifehouse)**_**, Everything**_** (Lifehouse),**_** Your Guardian Angel**_** (The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus), **_**Slipped Away**_** (Avril Lavigne) and **_**Remember When**_** (Avril Lavigne). **

**There is also multiple POV's in this chapter again.**

* * *

It had been almost a month since the massacre at Savoy and the city of Paris continued on as normal, as if nothing had happened. Aramis was sat on his windowsill curled up with his arms wrapped around his knees, leaning against the wall and with his forehead pressed up against the cold glass. It was well past midnight, he knew he should be lying in bed sleeping. Or at least trying to. But after three weeks of tossing and turning with no sleep he had given up trying. Every time he closed his eyes, close to sleep, he was back in that damn forest in Savoy. When Porthos had stayed with him he kept trying to sleep for the sake of his friend, but Porthos wasn't here now and so he could finally admit defeat and not have to dream of being in that forest again.

He angled his head so he was looking up at the stars and could almost believe everything was at peace. But it wasn't. While it might have been for the people of Paris, for him it was not. He was continuously battered with memories of the massacre. Everything reminded him of what happened, everything put him back in the forest surrounded by his dead friends. The clatter of hooves reminded him of the bolting horses, the grunting of someone working reminded him of the sounds the Musketeers made as they fought for their lives, the sounds of muskets being fired reminded him of the number of too few shots he had fired and the clashing of metal reminded him of the dangerous glint in the masked men's eyes as they fought to kill the Musketeers. The sounds of Paris had once comforted him, now they only brought pain and misery.

Since the mass funeral he had gone to see Susanne and Elisabeth a lot, as he promised he would help Susanne with what he could. Every time he looked at them he felt the injustice of it all. How could he, who had no wife or children to think of, survive? And why did Francis, who had begun to start a family, perish? It just wasn't fair and it wasn't right. Susanne was a good person, not once did she question him on what happened and looking into her eyes Aramis could see that she never blamed him for being the sole survivor. Aramis had taken to avoiding Porthos, Athos and the rest of the Musketeers in general. When he looked at them, all he could see was the sympathy, pity and questions in their eyes. But when he looked at Susanne he saw sadness, but above all he saw _understanding_. While he found it easier to sit and talk to Susanne, the rest of the Regiment thought he was having a relationship with her. He snorted at the thought that on this occasion they were wrong. Even if he did love Susanne like that, he would never enter a relationship with her or marry her for the fear of making her a soldier's widow again.

The cold from the window slowly started to seep into his skin and he shivered, but he remained in the same position with his eyes fixed on the stars. But the night sky faded away to be replaced with the camp in the forest and the massacre. He watched again and again as his friends died all around him. Raoul who countless times had tried to match Athos' drinking and failed miserably every time, Alexandre who had helped him with treating the wounded and who had undeniably saved his life the previous year after he had been wounded in the leg. Gilbert who begged him to teach him how to shoot a musket with more precision, he had been making progress when his life had been cruelly cut short, and Francis. Aramis clenched his hands so tight that his nails began digging into his palms leaving small crescent moon shapes that were red on his palms. He pulled his mind away from his thoughts when he heard the familiar clashing of wooden shutters signalling the coming of the morning.

Sighing he uncurled his stiff limbs and slowly stood up and stretched. He walked over to the nearby basin and splashed some water on his face to wake himself up. Just because he stopped falling asleep, didn't mean he wasn't tried and craved the blissful unawareness that only sleep could bring.

He shuffled over to the table where a loaf of bread sat and cut himself a slice; he only managed one bite before the familiar feeling of his stomach churning made him replace the slice on the table. The past three weeks anytime he tried to eat a meal he couldn't eat more than two bites before he stopped, fearing he would bring his food back up.

He sighed again and pulled on his leather layers and tied his sash and belts on around him. Lastly he picked up his hat and placed it firmly on his head, he pulled it down a little so it was covering his eyes, covering the dark circles that had become permanent fixtures on his face.

He dragged his feet over to the front door, shoulders slumped. He didn't want to go to the garrison, but he knew if he didn't someone, most likely Porthos, would come here and drag him to the garrison.

Aramis took a deep breath and straightened his back and then stepped out the front door, locked it and began walking down the now bustling streets of Paris. Usually he waited for Porthos on his own door step and waited for Porthos to walk the few houses between their lodgings. But the past three weeks Aramis left a little early and did not wait for Porthos. His landlady, Madam Joanna Leroy, a woman in her mid-forties and a soldier's widow herself. Had become worried over him, having been married to a soldier she knew the types of things that kept a soldier awake at night. She had no children of her own and often treated Aramis as the son she and her husband had never had, so during the past three weeks she continuously came to speak to him and brought with her dinners Aramis only had two bites of. One thing he dreaded was Joanna waiting for Porthos and telling him about Aramis' lack of appetite. He shuddered at the very thought of Porthos' reaction to discovering his lack of eating and sleeping.

* * *

Porthos left his lodgings early than he usually would, Aramis would always be waiting for him but that changed three weeks ago. Now Aramis went out of his way to avoid contact with anyone, he would keep his head down with his hat covering his eyes. Porthos hated to see his friend like this, but he didn't know what to do. The day after the funeral and when Aramis had walked away, he knocked on Aramis' door but there was never an answer despite him knowing Aramis was inside.

So today he decided to leave earlier and wait near Aramis' door to get a look at his friend. He soon arrived outside Aramis' lodgings and waited. He did not have to wait long, Aramis walked out of his door and Porthos sucked in a breath in shock. Aramis was pale, not as pale as when he'd found him lying in the snow but it was close, he had dark circles under his eyes and he looked thinner. He watched as Aramis locked his door and then pulled his hat down more to cover his eyes from prying eyes. Porthos watched with sorrow filled eyes as Aramis turned down the street, he then began to follow at a distance.

When they reached the garrison Aramis immediately turned and walked over to where the horses were kept. Every day now, before Treville ordered them into formation Aramis would spend his time sat on the straw covered floor at Bella's feet. Once Porthos had tried to talk to Aramis but his friend just brushed him off without a word, Aramis never talked to him or looked him in the eye anymore. In fact the same was for all the Musketeers. Not matter how hard they tried no one could get any words out of Aramis' mouth, Treville had even tried and had no success. It was as if the Aramis they all knew and loved had died in the massacre.

Sighing Porthos went and sat at the table in the courtyard beside Athos, at Athos' inquiring look he merely shook his head in response. Athos sighed and went back to cleaning his sword. Porthos looked around at the slowly gathering Musketeers and spotted Tristan.

Other than Aramis, Tristan had taken the Savoy massacre hard. He had been best friends with Raoul and Gilbert, they had all been from the same street in Paris, they had all become soldiers together and eventually became Musketeers together. They had never been parted until the training exercise and now Tristan had lost his best friends and brothers. Much like Aramis, Tristan was quieter and didn't say much. But unlike Aramis, Tristan didn't avoid the rest of the Musketeers, instead he hung around with them as much as he could, desperate for the same easy friendship he had with Raoul and Gilbert. But when on patrol Tristan had been taking risks that could get him killed, and everyone knew he didn't care anymore whether he lived or died. Tristan was now quick to anger and had very nearly gotten into countless duels, which in his current state of mind he would have lost, but thankfully Musketeers had stepped in and took Tristan back to the garrison to cool off. Until the next patrol. Seeing how Tristan was dealing with the loss of his friends, when Porthos looked at Tristan he saw what he would have become if Aramis had been killed.

Philippe who had been good friends with Alexandre, another who had been lost to them, had taken Tristan under his wing and was slowly helping the young Musketeer snap out of his current state of mind. Philippe was slowly making progress, Porthos knew with time Tristan would soon return back to his normal self. But the same could not be said of Aramis.

Before Porthos could think more on the matter of Aramis Treville appeared and everyone got into formation. Usually Porthos, Aramis and Athos stood in the front, but Aramis had taken to standing at the back and a few paces from the Musketeers lined up at the back. Porthos turned and watched as Aramis dragged his feet from the stables to the courtyard, all the while with his head down.

They were not stood in the courtyard long; Treville merely told them information about a group of thieves they needed to be on the lookout for and who was doing the patrols, and where the patrols were going. He wisely kept Philippe and Tristan together after seeing the calming effect Philippe had on the younger man. Soon they were released and told to go about their duties, Aramis quickly disappeared back to the stables and Porthos sighed not knowing what he could do.

* * *

Treville walked back up to the walkway and watched his men for a little while. He was pleased to see that Tristan was doing well under Philippe's guidance; he didn't want to see the talent that Tristan possessed wasted.

But then his eyes fell on a quickly retreating Aramis and he bowed his head, things with Aramis had been worse than they had when Aramis had first joined the Musketeers. They had all lost friends and family members and so they knew what to say to Aramis to help him through his grief. But no one in the Regiment had been lone survivors of a massacre; no one knew what to say that would help. So Aramis had ended up suffering in silence.

Tears began gathering in his eyes again and he turned and went to his office with one thought circling his mind. _Why did I send Aramis? I knew what was going to happen, why did I knowingly send him to face that?_ He knew the answer. For the training exercise to look real and with Erneste on another assignment with the majority of senior Musketeers the only ones left to lead the exercise was Marsac and Aramis.

He had hoped and prayed for the safe return of Francis and Aramis, only Aramis had returned, but not himself. Now Treville hoped and prayed with all his heart for Aramis to truly return to them. He knew if it took any longer, Aramis would be lost to them forever, and that was not something he ever wanted to face.

* * *

Aramis was huddled at the back of Bella's stable with his head rested on his knees and his hands gripping his hair. Now he knew he was exhausted because this morning everywhere he looked he saw someone who had been killed in Savoy.

Some were worse than others but among the worst had been Alexandre leaning against the entrance to the garrison with a line of blood staining his neck, he had held one hand to his neck as if he was trying to stem the blood flow and with his other hand he was reaching for Aramis. Once Aramis was near enough to reach out to him, Alexandre had suddenly dropped to the floor, limp and looking up at him with wide unseeing eyes. Second had been Raoul, he was grinning at Aramis with his sword held high in triumph, the look soon faded when Gilbert appeared lying at his feet gasping for air with blood pooling around his head coming from his neck and slipping between his lips. Raoul had screamed in grief and had hoisted Gilbert to his feet promising to save him, but a musket was fired and Raoul collapsed to the ground unmoving. Gilbert had cried for the loss of his friend and kept repeating he was sorry before his eyes slipped closed never to reopen again. Then Francis had been lying in front of him, begging him to save him, to let him look upon his wife and daughter one last time.

By this point Aramis was trying to hold back sobs, he couldn't understand why he had been the one to survive. And felt drained every time he looked upon a lost friend. Bella nuzzled his hair and he looked up at her, he swore looking into her eyes he could see her telling him to get up and do something to take his mind off the massacre and tire himself out enough that he could fall asleep.

So he took his saddle over to a work bench and began fixing the buckles seeing that sooner or later they might fall apart while he was riding. He began a steady pace of fixing the buckles, one was particularly stiff so he took a hammer and began knocking it. The steady pace of hammer hitting metal drew his mind back to the massacre. His mind was soon pulled back to the present when the hammer came down onto his left hand.

"Argh!" he dropped the hammer and cradled his left hand to his chest.

"Are you alright?" questioned a voice behind him, Aramis froze, it was Porthos. "Aramis?"

"Fine" bit out Aramis, he wasn't, his hand felt as if it was on fire but he knew if he admitted that then he'd have to deal with a worried Porthos.

"That doesn't sound fine to me" commented Porthos,

"Well I didn't ask you did I?" snapped Aramis, still with his back to Porthos. He then strode off back towards the stables which had become his safe haven since the massacre. Not once did he look back at his friend.

* * *

Porthos stood and watched as Aramis strode away, he was about to walk back to the courtyard but stopped himself. Enough was enough, he needed to talk to Aramis, and he needed to do it _now_. So purposefully he marched after Aramis and found his friend sat at Bella's feet still clutching his left hand to his chest.

Aramis caught sight of his feet and tried to move away, but Porthos grabbed Aramis' shoulder and forcefully turned Aramis to face him. He crouched down and pushed Aramis' hat back. He widened his eyes at the sight of his friend, the paleness of his face and the dark circles under his eyes were still noticeable but looking closer Porthos could see Aramis' eyes were red rimmed from when he had tried to contain his tears.

"Aramis" whispered Porthos in shock, his hand still rested on Aramis' shoulder.

"Don't" bit out Aramis as he turned his head away, "Just don't"

"Let me look at your hand" said Porthos,

Aramis pulled his injured hand closer, "I told you it's fine"

"I wasn't asking, I was telling. Now show me your hand!" ordered Porthos.

Aramis snapped his head up in shock with wide eyes; Porthos took the opportunity to gently pull Aramis' hand towards him. His hissed in sympathy, the back of the hand was already bruising and the palm was bleeding from where the buckle had cut it. But feeling Aramis' hand Porthos learnt that no bones were broken.

"Come on I'm taking you home" commented Porthos as he rose to his feet taking Aramis with him.

"But-"

"Do not argue with me Aramis. I can see you are exhausted and you are no use to anyone in this state" interrupted Porthos. He sighed sadly when there was no further argument, usually Aramis would argue back, and that could last hours. But Aramis just meekly nodded and lowered his hat over his eyes again, as if he was blocking out the world.

Soon they were at Aramis' lodgings and Porthos pushed Aramis into a chair and pulled up another so he was sat next to Aramis. He cleaned the cut on Aramis' palm and bandaged his hand, he then started a fire in the fireplace and spotted the bread and so brought two slices over to Aramis.

Aramis shook his head, "I'm not hungry"

Porthos frowned, "You need to eat something"

"I can't" whispered Aramis.

"Why not?" pressured Porthos as he held out the bread to Aramis.

Aramis turned his head away from the bread and snapped, "Because I am not hungry!"

Porthos then sat up straighter and leaned closer to Aramis and growled, "So you haven't been sleeping and you haven't been eating?"

"Basically" sniped Aramis.

Porthos shot to his feet and towered above a glaring Aramis. "That is foolish of you Aramis! How could you let this carry on for three weeks?!"

Aramis in turn shot to his feet and his glare hardened, "I hadn't intended for it to happen!"

"Right, but you let it happen anyway" scoffed Porthos,

Aramis stepped into Porthos' personal space and glared menacingly, "You try surviving a massacre of _twenty_ Musketeers and see if you have any appetite left or if you can sleep a whole night without reliving the massacre night after night!" Aramis then sharply turned away from Porthos and strode to the window and then turned back to face Porthos, "Do you know why I spend so much time with Bella and Susanne? It is because in the Musketeers' eyes, even _yours_! I see looks of sympathy and pity along with the desire to ask me questions about what happened. Either to _help me heal_ or to understand what happened! But Bella and Susanne don't do that! _No,_ in their eyes there is only _understanding_! It is easier to spend my days with them because I don't have to think about what happened! I don't have to _remember_!"

"Aramis-" began Porthos, but Aramis continued on as if he hadn't heard him.

"To make it worse even during the day I am haunted by it! Every sound, every sight brings it all back!" he yelled. "I can't _sleep_! I can't _eat_! And it has gotten to the point where I see them in the street covered in blood! I'm going _mad_!" Aramis laughed bitterly as he ran his hands through his hair.

Porthos stood silent in shock, and then he moved forward and placed his hands on Aramis' shoulders and gripped them tightly, but gently. "You. Are. _Not_. Going mad!" Porthos gritted out.

"What else explains what is happening to me?" hissed Aramis, the fight then seemed to drain out of him, his knees buckled and he ended up sat on the windowsill slumping into Porthos' hold. "You should have left me to die in that forest" he whispered.

Porthos forcefully shook Aramis' shoulders, "Don't you _ever_ say that again!"

Aramis stared up at Porthos with blank eyes, "I'm so cold Porthos. You may have physically taken me from that forest, but I'm still there. I can't get out" murmured Aramis in a broken voice.

Porthos crouched so he was at eye level with Aramis, "You _are_ out Aramis"

Aramis shook his head, "It is like I am falling, I am waiting to hit the ground but time is just drawing it out. _Why_? I just want it to end!"

"You have fallen Aramis, and I have _caught you_. There is no more waiting, it is over. You are _safe_" stressed Porthos, he then pulled Aramis forward and embraced his friend. "You are never alone; I'll always be standing beside you".

* * *

Later that night Aramis was again sat on the windowsill looking up at the stars, Porthos had tried to stay up to make sure Aramis slept with no nightmares but he had eventually fallen asleep. Aramis had only pretended to fall asleep and waited until Porthos did. He then carried out his nightly ritual of sitting on his windowsill waiting for the sun to come up. He was startled when a hand landed on his shoulder.

"Easy it is only me" soothed Porthos as he moved so he was leaning against the opposite wall from Aramis. He watched as Aramis relaxed so he was loosely leaned against the wall his head angled up so he could look at the sky and his hands wrapped around his knees. "Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

"Couldn't" replied Aramis.

Porthos then sat on the edge of the windowsill and looked directly at Aramis, "You need to let it go Aramis"

"I _can't_" whispered Aramis brokenly, "Every time I try it is always there"

"You _have _to Aramis, it is eating you alive. I can't lose you Aramis you are my brother, my only family" said Porthos softly,

"You haven't lost me" murmured Aramis as he turned his head to look at Porthos, "I'm still here"

"No you're not" Porthos replied shaking his head, "You've changed Aramis, and not for the better. You need to let it all go before you can start healing. I know it will take time, but you will get there"

"_How_? I want to. But I don't know _how_" murmured Aramis in the same broken and defeated tone, he brought his hands up to cover his face.

Porthos saw the minute Aramis' eyes locked on the bandage how he was pulled back into the forest. So he moved closer and shook Aramis' shoulder gently.

Aramis' eyes locked onto his and in a strained voice he said, "I tried to help them, but the assailants were everywhere. And then I was hit over the head. I couldn't save them and now they're all dead"

"It's not your fault Aramis" stated Porthos,

Aramis' face crumbled and _finally_ he began to let go of the massacre. Porthos pulled Aramis into a tight hug and let his friend cry. He knew Aramis had been holding this in since the massacre. And he knew now the healing could begin. After a while when Aramis' tears had turned into hitching sobs Porthos stood him up and laid him back into bed. He lay down next to Aramis when Aramis refused to let go of his wrist, Aramis' fingers pressed above his pulse and he let his wrist rest between Aramis' fingers knowing it was bringing his friend comfort.

As Aramis' eyes started to droop Porthos whispered, "You're safe Aramis. You're safe".

The next day Porthos woke to find Aramis in a deep sleep, he left and asked Joanna to sit with Aramis (which she willingly did) while he went to see Treville. Without much persuading he managed to get some leave for himself and Aramis, it was time Aramis went home to visit his parents. He told Treville this and Treville gave them four weeks' leave to enable them to get to Aramis' home and spend a sufficient amount of time there.

He returned to Aramis' lodgings to be told by Joanna Aramis hadn't woke. So Porthos took her seat and two hours later Aramis began to stir.

Aramis looked up at Porthos' big grin frowning in confusion, "Why are you so happy this morning?"

"Because _I_ have spoken with Treville and have gotten us four weeks leave. In three days we are leaving to go and visit your parents"

Aramis gaped up at him, "I'm going home?"

Porthos nodded and Aramis' face broke into a wide grin that had been missing since Savoy. And that was when Porthos knew for sure that eventually everything would be fine.

**TBC**

* * *

**A/N The next chapter is going to be about Porthos and Aramis visiting Aramis' parents.**


	8. Home at Last – 1625

**A/N Sorry for the delay in updating but University life became a little hectic the past week!**

**In this chapter I introduce Aramis' family, I'm not sure what everyone generally knows/thinks about his family so after all the angst I have put him through I thought I would give him a nice big happy family. Sorry if anyone disagrees with this but this is just what I thought would work.**

* * *

Porthos and Aramis were two days into their four day trip to Aramis' village. They had to wait three days before they could leave and so Porthos had sent a message ahead to Aramis' parents to tell them their son was coming to visit. While he did not tell them of the massacre at Savoy, he did tell them something had happened and Aramis just needed time away from Paris to recover. Aramis had grinned when Porthos told him he could go home, but now there was no smiling. He kept shooting worried glances over to Aramis who had tensed as soon as they had exited the city gates. While Aramis hadn't said anything, Porthos knew he was thinking back to the last time he left the city, that journey had resulted in twenty dead Musketeers.

Athos had studied a map with Porthos to determine the quickest route to Aramis' home and he was pleased to be getting his friend back to the village he had not set eyes on in three years. But they were now coming up to the edge of a forest. Porthos had thought nothing of it until Aramis' breathing hitched and his grip on the reigns tightened. And then Porthos realized. He berated himself for being so stupid. The massacre had taken place in a forest, how could he think he could take Aramis through another, just a month later?

Porthos looked at Aramis had saw his friend sat rigid in his saddle staring at the forest ahead with wide eyes filled with terror.

"We can go around" suggested Porthos, he hated that he had put the look of pure terror on his brother's face.

Aramis continued to stare at the looming forest and then shook himself and, still staring at the forest replied, "No. The quickest route is to go through it." And in a quieter voice he murmured, "I just want to get home".

Porthos nodded, he could understand his friend wanting to get home as soon as possible. "Alright then"

They entered the forest and Aramis darted his eyes all around, as if searching for danger. His breathing got quicker and all the colour drained from his face. Porthos was about to suggest turning back, because he could see being in the forest was painful for Aramis, he could see the haunting memories replaying in his friend's eyes. Aramis wasn't in a forest halfway to his home; he was back on the border with Savoy.

"Aramis, turn Bella around. We're going to find another way" stated Porthos as he reached out to stop Aramis' horse.

Aramis shook his head sharply.

"Aramis" sighed Porthos, "There is nothing wrong with admitting that being in here is distressing for you. You have _nothing_ to prove. We'll go around"

"No. We're. Not" Aramis bit out forcefully.

Porthos opened his mouth to argue but a twig snapped and a flock of birds flew up into the sky, the noise startled Aramis. He then pushed Bella into a gallop and galloped through the forest. Bella seemed to sense her master's distress and so galloped so fast it was as if she was being chased by a fast flowing river. Porthos gaped in silence for a few moments until he regained his senses and galloped after Aramis.

When Porthos emerged from the forest he slowed his horse to a walk scanning the area for Aramis; he did not need to look far. Aramis had dismounted just off the side of the road and had braced himself against a tree with one hand, whilst he crouched and emptied his stomach of its contents.

Porthos dismounted and draped his horse's and Bella's reigns over a branch and strode over to Aramis. He rested a hand on Aramis' forehead and his other on Aramis' shoulder; Aramis slowly stood up and moved so his back was resting against the tree. He wiped a hand across his mouth and angled his head so he was looking up at the sky as he took deep breaths. Aramis flickered his eyes over to Porthos for a few seconds before he looked back up at the sky and sighed.

"I know what you're going to say. You're going to say how I should have listened to you and gone around the forest. But I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it." He shook his head and chuckled bitterly, "I couldn't even do that. I failed"

"You did _not_ fail" stressed Porthos as he gripped one of Aramis' shoulders.

Aramis shook his head and move his head so he was looking at the ground, "No matter how hard I tried. I could not stop thinking about…Savoy…and it was as if I was back fighting for my life watching as the others fell. No matter how hard I tried, I ended up running away"

"You were not running away! You merely went through the forest at a fast pace" argued Porthos, "I wouldn't even have done that if I was in your position-"

"See! You wouldn't have run!" interrupted Aramis as he threw his hands up dislodging Porthos' hand and ran his hands through his hair.

"Let me finish" growled Porthos. Aramis looked at him wide eyed in shock and then looked back down at the ground, his hands dropping to his sides. Porthos then in a comforting voice continued, "I wouldn't have galloped through the forest because I wouldn't even had _entered_ it"

Aramis looked back up at Porthos in shock, "But-"

"Listen to me very carefully Aramis" interrupted Porthos holding up a hand, "It has been a month since Savoy" Aramis flinched and Porthos squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. "You can't expect for everything to remain the same. There are going to be things that are going to make you uneasy. But the way you persevered and entered the forest. Not only that you went the _whole way through_!"

"You're making it sound like I achieved something great" commented Aramis dryly.

"What did I say about listening?" sighed Porthos, "But yes you did achieve something great. It would have taken me months to enter a forest after going through what you did. And in the future, while the memories will remain, you will find it easier to enter a forest. But never doubt yourself Aramis, because when you do, you begin to second guess yourself and that is when things go wrong. You taught me that."

"Nice to know you actually listen and can remember what you are told. As I told you that back when you first joined the Musketeers" commented Aramis with a small smile.

"I always listen! I just don't always follow advice" smirked Porthos.

Aramis rolled his eyes, then he pushed himself off the tree and gathered Bella's reigns and then pulled himself up into the saddle. Porthos grinned, the Aramis he knew from before Savoy was slowly reemerging and that took a load of his mind. He could see that just the thought of home was a strong source of motivation for Aramis, and while another person would be worried that Aramis would choose to stay with his parents and leave the Musketeers. He knew within a week Aramis would be back in Paris, he had said himself to Porthos, he chose to follow Victor to a Regiment because he did not want the simple life of a farmer.

* * *

They were now near to Aramis' home and fortunately they had not had to go through anymore forests or woods. They were about a mile from the village and Aramis was turning his head in all directions taking in the familiar sites from his childhood.

They passed a small lake and Aramis pointed to it, "My father taught me how to swim there. And I would come here often with my friends"

Porthos looked over at the small lake and could picture a young Aramis playing about in the water with his friends. Aramis then suddenly diverted Bella from the road a trotted over to a huge oak tree, Porthos followed with a look of confusion.

Aramis gave him a small smile, "It took me months to be able to climb this tree. It is a tradition for the children around the age of 12 to climb up to where the branches begin to get thinner." Porthos looked up and shielded his eyes from the glare of the sun.

"You would climb up there?!" he gasped in shock, the oak tree was huge it was as if the branches were reaching up to touch the sky.

Aramis nodded, "I lost count the number of times I fell out of it. When I had finally managed to get to the point where everyone stops climbing I realized I had fallen out of the tree so much I did not know how to climb down"

Porthos snorted in amusement, just like Aramis to rush headlong into a situation and not think clearly how he was going to get out of it. Aramis had told him he liked to improvise, that way his plan of escape would always be sure to work. Porthos wasn't surprised that this had started when Aramis was at a young age.

"You didn't jump did you?" questioned Porthos, while he knew Aramis had safely got out of the tree, for Aramis was stood right in front of him, he still did not like the thought of Aramis being injured no matter if it was a past or present injury.

"_No_" retorted Aramis, still wearing that small smile that was nowhere near his usual wide grin. "One of my friends ran back to village to get my father. Father came and stood at the base of the tree and shouted up how I had to get down. Then once I'd safely gotten down he helped me carve my name into the trunk"

Porthos frowned in confusion and then looked closer and saw hundreds of names carved into the bark, they were all in different lists and at the heads of each list was a year. Aramis pointed up to his name which had above it 1612.

"I said climbing the tree was a tradition, another part of the tradition is once you have successfully climbed the tree and got back down you carve your name into the trunk. It is also a great achievement if you are the first one listed in the year. Which I was" smiled Aramis.

Porthos rolled his eyes; of course it would be Aramis who would take pride in being the first to successfully climb an oak tree in 1612. Aramis knew what Porthos was thinking so, still sat in his saddle, leaned forward and pointed at the trunk.

"It is a family tradition to be the first one to climb the tree each year, a tradition started by my grandfather." Aramis pointed out mock defensively.

Porthos looked up and under the list headed 1567 was Jacques d'Herblay.

Smiling Aramis then continued, "Although, I would bet I had to climb higher than grandfather did, the tree couldn't have been more than a sapling when he was 12"

Porthos laughed and looked up at the tree and smiled when Aramis pointed out his family members and he could see Aramis was right, his family was always the first.

"As you can see grandfather did it in 1567, my grandmother chose not to partake in this tradition" smiled Aramis, "My father in 1587, his older brother Uncle Edmond in 1586, my father's younger sister Aunt Evette in 1589, Uncle Edmonds' children; Victor in 1608, Eleanor in 1609 and Nathanael in 1611 and my Aunt Evette's daughters; Charlotte in 1610 and Katriane in 1613. And that is not including my cousins Charlotte's and Katriane's children who are as yet too young to climb the tree"

Porthos whistled, "That's a big family" his head spun from just trying to keep up.

Aramis gave him a sympathetic glance, "Don't worry you won't have to remember everyone" at Porthos' inquiring look Aramis added, "Aunt Evette lives in a village three miles away, she moved there when she married and so Charlotte and Katriane live there also with their families. Their names are only recorded on the tree because they wanted to keep up the family tradition."

"No wonder you are so stubborn, you're whole family is!" exclaimed Porthos,

"I wouldn't say I'm stubborn" disagreed Aramis, Porthos looked at him with one eyebrow raised and said, "Alright maybe I am a little"

"A little he says" muttered Porthos shaking his head.

With one more look at the tree the pair turned their horses around and continued on down the road, Aramis also told Porthos that despite being the grand age of 70, his grandfather was still alive and well so he would be able to meet the man responsible for the family's 'stubbornness'.

* * *

Soon they were steadily getting to the top a hill and once they did they looked down at Aramis' village. Porthos looked at Aramis and smiled seeing the awe struck look on his friend's face.

"Welcome home Aramis" said Porthos, Aramis turned to look at him and nodded before he urged Bella on. As they walked through the village those in the street recognised Aramis and called out greetings to him. Aramis smiled and waved but did not stop to say anything to them, instead he continued to the other end of the village. Suddenly he halted Bella and stared at the small farm in front of him almost in shock, not believing that he was really home. Then he walked Bella into the small courtyard of the farm and slowly dismounted.

As Aramis untangled his winter Musketeer cloak from his saddlebags the breath was knocked out of him as someone rushed into his side and hugged him tightly. Instantly he knew it was his mother from her familiar scent, so with one arm resting on his mother's shoulders, he turned so he could embrace her properly. He rested his head in the crook of his mother's neck, something he had to stoop down to do as he was a full head and shoulders taller than his mother.

Rosaline tightened her arms around Aramis and in her native language she whispered, _"My son, oh my precious son you have returned to me"_

Aramis smiled and replied, _"Always"_

Rosaline stood back from the embrace and looked him up and down, looking into his mother's eyes Aramis knew that she knew something had happened to him (he also knew she would have learnt that from Porthos' letter) but she knew that whatever happened had had a lasting emotional strain on him.

"I'm alright Mama" he reassured.

"No you are not" Rosaline commented sternly shaking her head, she then softened and added, "But you will be"

They turned at the sound of approaching footsteps and Aramis saw his father making his way slowly over to him. When Colbert was close enough he took one of Aramis' hands and shook it, (Rosaline remained holding onto Aramis' free arm) Colbert looked into Aramis' eyes and undoubtedly saw whatever Rosaline had done and with glistening eyes he pulled Aramis' into a tight embrace.

"Welcome home son" murmured Colbert, Aramis was even taller than his father by a couple of inches so Colbert was talking into Aramis' shoulder.

"It's good to be back father" replied Aramis softly, his own eyes beginning to glisten with unshed tears. The embrace ended when a voice sounded from the front door of the farmhouse.

"Where is he? Where is that wandering, Musketeer, grandson of mine?" despite being 70 Jacques swiftly moved across the courtyard to push Colbert out of the way and tightly wrapped his arms around Aramis. Jacques pulled back and looked over at Rosaline who was still holding onto Aramis' arm. "Rosaline I cannot properly hug the boy if you keep holding his arm! He is not going to disappear!"

"None of your children were away for three years! I want to reassure myself that my son is really here" retorted Rosaline.

"Colbert tell your wife to stop coddling the boy!" urged Jacques as he turned to face his son who was still rubbing his arm from Jacques' sharp elbow.

Colbert looked between his wife and father before pointing out, "You hugged Aramis yourself father"

"But I am not grasping the boy's arm as if he is about to run off!" argued Jacques,

Rosaline glared at her father-in-law, "You still have your arms around Aramis"

Jacques paused and then drew back his arms saying, "Well I am a senile old man who forgets what he is doing"

"You are not senile father" sighed Colbert, his tone of voice suggesting to Aramis that this was an ongoing argument.

Aramis turned his head to look at Porthos and rolled his eyes, Porthos was stood watching the whole exchange in silent laughter. Aramis cleared his throat interrupting his arguing relatives.

"Perhaps I should introduce my friend?" at his family's nods he beckoned Porthos forward and said, "This is Porthos, he is my best friend and has been my brother since his joining the Musketeers two years ago"

Porthos smiled at his friend's family and opened his mouth to greet them when Rosaline interrupted him.

"Do not try to call us anything other than our names. Aramis says you are like his brother so a member of this family you will be" she smiled. Aramis turned to Porthos and mouthed, 'sorry'. So Rosaline smacked his arm.

"Ow!" protested Aramis as he rubbed his arm,

"I saw you" glared Rosaline. She then told Colbert to take the horses into the barn.

While his mother was distracted Aramis leaned closer to Porthos and murmured, "I would just do what she says. You think _I'm_ stubborn, she is _much worse_."

Rosaline caught what Aramis was telling Porthos and went to smack his arm again, but Aramis swiftly moved backwards and grinned down at his mother. But Rosaline merely glared and swiftly smacked Aramis the upside of the head.

"Ouch!" squawked Aramis,

Rosaline sighed, "You have barely been home five minutes and already it feels as if you never left"

Jacques then turned to Rosaline and crossed his arms across his chest, "He has barely been home five minutes, early into his leave after working hard as a soldier and already you are smacking him?"

Rosaline gaped for a moment before she spun on her heels and marched back into the house cursing the men of the family she had married into.

Aramis raised a questioning eyebrow at his grandfather and Jacques smirked, "You were always running your mother ragged and while you were gone I thought I would take up the job"

Jacques then turned and followed Rosaline into the house loudly questioning when dinner would be ready.

Porthos shook his head in amusement, "Is it always like this?"

"Yes" replied Aramis, "This quiet compaired to what it was like growing up with myself and my cousins running rampage"

Porthos laughed. He could see how Aramis had inherited his mother's eyes and hair, his father's build and posture and while Aramis may look nothing like his grandfather. Jacques had clearly passed his sense of humour and quick wits onto Aramis.

He smiled and clapped Aramis on the back and together they walked into the farmhouse with Colbert right behind them. Aramis entered the front room and felt comforted seeing the familiar sights of his childhood home. As Rosaline worked on a stew with Jacques passing comments from his chair; he placed his sword and pistol on the table.

Rosaline spun around hearing the clatter and brandishing her ladle loudly exclaimed, "Not on the table!"

Aramis hastily removed his weapons and placed them next to the fireplace, Porthos quickly followed suit. They then sat in the chairs beside Colbert and Jacques. Aramis looked around the room in wonder, not believing that he was _finally_ home, after three long years away it felt nice to be sat amongst his family.

Soon the strew was ready and Rosaline handed Porthos and Aramis the first two servings, the two young men hastily began spooning the stew into their mouths hungry from the meagre rations that they had been given for the four day journey. Jacques looked between them and Rosaline frowning.

"I'm the oldest here, why have I not been given my stew first?"

Rosaline sighed, "They have travelled a long distance. Look at them they are starving! You can wait a few minutes"

"I made it from my bed to the courtyard alone this morning I say that was quite an achievement" retorted Jacques, when Rosaline turned back to the stew sighing Jacques turned and winked at Porthos and Aramis, telling them Jacques was purposefully antagonising Rosaline.

Porthos struggled to keep a straight face, when Aramis snorted in amusement and coughed to cover it up. Porthos shared a smile with Jacques, that was the closest Aramis had come to real laughter, and looking at Aramis' family Porthos could see that they could see that to.

They had all finished their meals and were contentedly sat around the fireplace talking about anything that took their fancy. For Aramis it was a nice break from all the questioning glances from those who wanted to know what exactly happened at Savoy, he knew if he told them they would then leave him alone. But he just couldn't talk about it, it was too soon and too painful. He wondered if he would ever be able to talk about what happened.

He leaned back in his chair with his legs stretched out, "I showed Porthos the oak tree on our way here" he commented.

Jacques grinned broadly, "Ah! So you have seen how our family has always come first climbing the tree? I taught all three of my children the best way to climb the tree and they each won and they passed on those skills to their children. It only goes to show our family's strength"

Colbert rolled his eyes, "Our strength of climbing trees?"

"Don't sound so disapproving" frowned Jacques, "When you were 12 you were very excited at the prospect of carrying on the family tradition"

"A tradition that had been started by you and only carried on by Edmond by that point" countered Colbert.

Aramis sensed an argument brewing and interrupted, "Talking of the family tradition. I hope Charlotte's and Katriane's children have been practising to uphold the tradition"

Rosaline scoffed, "It is a stupid family tradition! Climbing that tree is _dangerous_, just look at all the times Aramis fell out of it. He was lucky not to break any bones"

Aramis leaned over and gently squeezed his mother's hand, "Mama I was fine, no harm done"

"No harm done?!" Rosaline exclaimed, "No harm done he says! Your father had to bring you home three times with a concussion, another time you were knocked unconscious; five times you came home with twisted ankles and three times with an injured arm! No harm done! If that is what you consider no harm done then I hate to see what you _do_ consider harmful!"

Jacques shrugged, "It is not that dangerous Rosaline, Aramis was the clumsiest out of the family at that time. So he was bound to fall out the tree the most, I am surprised he didn't fall out of it more"

"Your trust in my abilities makes me so honoured grandfather" snarked Aramis,

Jacques grinned at Aramis, "I always knew you could climb it first"

Porthos chuckled, while meeting Aramis' family was certainly entertaining for him. He could see how Aramis had already relaxed and was more like his old self than he had been the past month. Something that was reassuring and comforting for him, knowing his friend and brother wasn't completely lost to him.

* * *

Later that night Aramis and Porthos were stood in Aramis' childhood room, it was a decent size and had two single beds about two feet apart.

At Porthos' inquiring look Aramis yawned, "Victor and Nathanael came over to stay a lot so Mama kept a second bed in my room just incase"

Porthos nodded and spent the next few minutes reading himself for bed. Hearing a soft thump he turned and smiled, Aramis had been so exhausted he had collapsed face first onto his bed still fully clothed and was fast asleep. Porthos walked over to his friend's bed and started to remove his boots, there was a soft knock on the door and then Rosaline entered the room. She smiled seeing her son passed out on his bed, she came over and helped Porthos remove Aramis' boots and helped move Aramis so he was under the covers.

Aramis blinked his eyes drowsily and watched through half closed eyes as Porthos moved back to his bed while his mother sat on the edge of his and ran her fingers through his hair.

"_I am so glad you have come back my son. It was very quiet without you here"_ Rosaline murmured in Spanish,

"_I am sorry Mama"_ whispered Aramis,

Rosaline shook her head, _"You have nothing to be sorry for. You are doing what you love and I could not ask for more. Except for a visit a least once a year, three years is far too long"_

Aramis smiled, _"I'll visit more when I can. I promise"_

Rosaline nodded and smiled, she leaned over and kissed his brow before she stood and murmured, _"Sleep well Aramis and may whatever has been haunting you leave you be this night"_. Rosaline then turned and after bidding Porthos goodnight she quietly left the room.

Porthos looked over at Aramis to see his friend had fallen asleep again. Smiling Porthos made himself comfortable and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

A week had passed and every morning Aramis felt the burden of Savoy lift a little. His family had not asked him any questions about what happened to him, and left him to show Porthos around and just spend the day however he wished.

But at lunch on their seventh day at the farm Rosaline looked over at Aramis and in a soft voice asked, "I know this will be hard, but Aramis what happened to you that haunts you so?"

Porthos, Colbert and Jacques looked at Aramis with worried expressions.

Aramis sucked in a breath and froze, he swallowed before murmuring, "A month ago I was in a troop of Musketeers when we were attacked"

Rosaline gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. Aramis and Porthos looked confusedly at Rosaline, Colbert and Jacques. Colbert seeing their looks of confusion stated,

"You were involved in that massacre on the border with Savoy weren't you?"

"H-h-how?" spluttered Aramis, he had been very careful not to mention it around his family and had made Porthos assure him that they would not be told in the letter. He had hoped his family would never learn of the massacre.

"News about anything as big as a massacre of Musketeers spreads, even as far as here" said Colbert softly; looking at his son's wide eyes he could see Aramis fighting back the memories and the terror. Even Colbert could see Aramis was losing this battle. So when Aramis mumbled an excuse to leave the house Colbert let him go.

Jacques looked at Porthos and softly asked, "Were you at Savoy as well?"

Porthos shook his head, "I was not. Aramis was the sole survivor"

Rosaline gasped and clutched her sides; Jacques draped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed comfortingly when Colbert sat as if in a daze. Porthos knew he was never going to tell them Marsac left Aramis in the forest alone and slowly freezing to death.

"Was he injured badly?" choked Rosaline,

Porthos shook his head, "He suffered a blow to the head and was stone cold by the time we arrived at the site. But the guilt has been eating away at him ever since I took him away from that forest."

Colbert moved so he was embracing Rosaline who was stifling back tears, but at her husband's soothing touch she began sobbing quietly into his shoulder. Colbert gently rubbed her back and comforted her, both thankful that their son had been spared in the massacre.

Jacques looked at his son and daughter-in-law sadly; Rosaline had come to France with no family and had been alone. He knew marrying Colbert and having Aramis had been the two events to reassure Rosaline that there could indeed be happiness in the world. He also knew that if they lost Aramis they would soon lose Rosaline to be followed by Colbert, Jacques knew what grief could do to a person and looking into Aramis' eyes since his arrival he always saw grief in them. No matter how well Aramis masked the emotion, it was seen clearly by Jacques. Colbert and Rosaline didn't see it because they didn't want to; they found it hard not seeing their son's eyes constantly filled with laughter and mischief.

Sighing Jacques turned back to Porthos, "After Victor died, Aramis felt guilty and while he's never said anything I just knew he hadn't been taking care of himself. He took risks and didn't care whether he died in battle or not. It was as if he was punishing himself. Has he done anything similar this past month?" Jacques didn't know he wanted to know the answer, but remembering how Aramis had been when he had come to tell them he was joining the Musketeers he had been unable to look anyone in the eye, thinking they all blamed him for Victor's death. Jacques had taken the time to slowly show Aramis nobody blamed him, but Aramis had to leave before Jacques could fully assure himself that his grandson would be fine.

Porthos looked at Jacques and then over at Aramis' parents who were looking back at him with fearful expressions. "Our Captain remembers what Aramis had gone through after Victor died and so this past month he hasn't given Aramis any assignments or patrols that might had led to him being careless in a fight"

Aramis' family all sighed in relief; Colbert gently pushed Rosaline into Jacques' arms and gestured to Porthos to follow him. Together they exited the farmhouse and Colbert led Porthos to where he knew Aramis would be. They walked for five minutes and found Aramis sat in a meadow forlornly looking at the woods ahead. Wordlessly Porthos hung back and allowed Colbert to approach Aramis.

Without turning to look at his father Aramis murmured, "You'd best keep Bella here"

Colbert frowned, "And why is that? I know you and that horse love each other dearly"

Aramis sighed and looked down as he ripped some of the grass out of the ground, "You gave her to me three years ago saying, 'every great soldier needs a great horse'. I am no great soldier, and so I do not deserve a horse as great as Bella"

Colbert reached out and gently shook Aramis' shoulder, "Now none of that son, do not speak so little of yourself"

Aramis tensed and tried to move away, but Colbert kept him sitting where he was. "It's _true_. Victor died because of me, and I was leading the troop in Savoy. And they all died but I didn't! How is that not my fault? How is that me being a _great soldier_?!"

Colbert swiftly moved so he was crouched in front of his son, he now knew why during the past week Aramis had found it hard to look him directly in the eye. Aramis had felt he hadn't lived up to his father's expectations. Colbert internally cursed himself for not seeing it sooner, but was determined to make his son see that he had lived up to his expectations and surpassed them.

"Now you listen to me son. Remember I said news travels fast?" asked Colbert, he waited until Aramis, still staring at the ground, nodded. "We also hear many stories about the bravery of the King's Musketeers, sometimes we hear names. And sometimes we hear your name." Aramis looked up in shock. "Yes son, _your name_. It makes your mother and I _so proud_ knowing that you help protect the people of Paris and France. When we hear news of the deeds you have done your grandfather will not stop speaking of it for _weeks_. You are a great soldier son"

Aramis shook his head, "You know people exaggerate father. I am just an average soldier amongst a Regiment of great soldiers"

Porthos could see Colbert was not getting through to Aramis, so he stepped forward and crouched beside Aramis slinging an arm over his friend's shoulders. "Do _not_ sell yourself short Aramis. How many soldiers do you know that can sew a wound neatly? That can reset broken bones? Who can fire a musket with such precision it always hits the centre of a target? And who is considered one of the best swordsmen of the Regiment? That is all you Aramis, not even I can do all of that. You _are_ a great soldier"

Aramis looked up at him with shinning eyes, "But at Savoy-"

"It wasn't your fault" interrupted Porthos sternly, "Just because you were the sole survivor does not mean you shirked your responsibilities to the men. It just means you have not yet done all that has been set out for you, you still have a part to play in the world"

Aramis looked wide eyed at Porthos and then turned to his father, Colbert nodded, "Porthos speaks the truth son. It was not your fault"

Aramis' shoulders began to shake and Colbert wrapped his arms tightly around his son, "That's right son, let it all out"

Porthos laid a comforting hand on Aramis' shoulder and together he and Colbert comforted Aramis as he finally began to move on from the horrors of Savoy. A little while later Aramis sat straight and stared in wonder at his hands, seeing Porthos' and his father's looks he gave them a small smile.

"I feel warm"

Colbert's eyes widened as he reached forward to rest a hand on Aramis' brow, "You don't have a fever"

Aramis shook his head smiling softly, "Not that kind of warm. Ever since Savoy, the cold seemed to have settled in my bones and no matter what I did I always felt cold. Now I don't. I feel warm"

Porthos smiled, "That is the sign of healing"

Aramis turned and gave Porthos a wide, _genuine_, smile. They remained sat in the meadow for a little longer before they wordlessly got to their feet and made their way back to the farmhouse. Once they walked into the courtyard the farmhouse door swung open and Rosaline burst out and much like the day Aramis and Porthos arrived, she embraced Aramis tightly. Porthos and Colbert shared a smile with Jacques and Rosaline hearing Aramis' familiar laughter.

* * *

It was now time for Aramis and Porthos to begin their journey back to Paris, their horses were stood in the courtyard being held by Porthos after he had bidden his hosts' goodbye.

Aramis was stood in front of his family with his mother straightening his Musketeer cloak and brushing away dust only she could see.

Rosaline looked up at him, "Do you have everything?"

"Mama" groaned Aramis,

"Leave the boy be Rosaline" smiled Jacques, "You have asked him that three times and he has even checked his saddle bags to prove to you he has everything"

Aramis threw his grandfather a grateful look. Rosaline tutted but stepped back to allow Jacques to hug Aramis.

"Now you take care of yourself lad you got that? I don't want to hear about you doing anything stupid. Am I clear?"

"Yes grandfather" smiled Aramis, he hugged Jacques tightly, "And you look after yourself alright? But don't run Mama too rugged I think you've done that enough the past three years"

"Alright lad if you insist" smiled Jacques, his and Aramis' smiles widened hearing Rosaline's muttered cursing.

Jacques patted Aramis' shoulder and then allowed Colbert to step forward. Colbert brought Aramis in for a bone crushing hug. "Be safe son and always remember that we are so very proud of you"

"I will father" choked Aramis as he blinked back tears. With one more smile Colbert stepped back and Aramis outstretched his arms for his mother.

With no hesitation Rosaline launched herself at her son and hugged him, trying not to cry knowing it would upset Aramis. Growing up he had always hated seeing her cry and if it was because of a wandering trader stating they didn't want to business with a Spanish woman Aramis, no matter his age, would always go and do something about it. Often getting his friends to help him in whatever he planned.

"I'll be alright Mama" murmured Aramis into his mother's hair,

"I know" smiled Rosaline leaning back to look up at her son's face, "You have your father's luck and skills, you also have a great friend in Porthos who is stood at your side." She placed a hand on his cheek and firmly said, "Remember your promise to visit at least once a year. Also I want more than one letter every few months, one every month is that clear?"

"Yes Mama" smiled Aramis, he hugged his mother tighter and regretfully pulled away and with more look at his family he turned and walked towards the horses. Once he and Porthos were walking their horses through the gate he turned back one more time to wave and then followed Porthos through the village. Part of him wanted to stay, but he knew the quiet village life wasn't for him, the bustling and heaving streets of Paris was what he needed. But a part of him would always belong in the quiet village a few miles from Le Mans.

Porthos brought his horse to Bella's side and looked at Aramis. "Are you going to be alright?" he questioned.

Aramis paused for a moment, since talking with his father and Porthos in the meadow he had felt the burden of Savoy significantly lighten. "Yes, I am" he replied knowing he meant it.

Porthos smiled and together they rode back to Paris, knowing that once again everything was well and just as it should be.

**TBC**

* * *

**A/N Wow that was a long chapter! I hope it made up for the wait!**


	9. Siege of La Rochelle–Sep 1627 – Sep 1628

**A/N I have researched this to the best of my abilities so I apologize if anything is wrong, if you spot anything that is wrong let me know and I will change it. As this chapter spans a year I'm going to be jumping time a lot, sorry if this bothers anyone.**

* * *

**Early September 1627**

Aramis sighed; he was leaning against a tree on a hill with his hat lowered so it covered his eyes. The Musketeer Regiment was part of the Royal force that had surrounded the Huguenot stronghold at La Rochelle. They had been there since the end of August and had yet to see any action. While he hated sitting around doing nothing, undeniably he was nervous. The last time he had been in battle was when Treville had offered him a place in the Musketeers, and he had been in a bad place at the time after losing his cousin and friends. And he was scared that it was going to happen again. This was why he sat alone and looking as if he was asleep, he knew Porthos would instantly know something was wrong and had no intention of telling anyone, even Porthos, what was worrying him. Porthos had become better at reading him after the massacre at Savoy and if anything remotely troubled Aramis Porthos was there hovering nearby. So Aramis didn't need Porthos worrying about him, Porthos needed to worry about himself, he had to keep himself alive because Aramis knew this time there would be no coming back from the dark places in his mind. Losing Victor and his friends in 1622 and then the Savoy massacre had almost destroyed him; if he lost Athos and especially Porthos he knew nothing would ever be the same for him again.

Porthos was sat nearby to Aramis and looked over at his sleeping friend in concern. When they had first been told by Treville that the Regiment was going to La Rochelle to deal with the rebelling Huguenots Aramis had been grinning and happy that he had something new to do admitting patrols were being to become dull. But the closer they got to La Rochelle the more withdrawn Aramis became. Porthos had become worried that soon Aramis would cease saying anything, but Treville had ordered them to stop and rest at Le Mans, Porthos wondered if this was their Captain's way of helping Aramis. The people of the nearby villages had heard of the Regiment passing through and many wanted to come and see the legendary Regiment, but three faces in the crowd had merely come to see Aramis. Seeing his mother, father and grandfather seemed to bring life back into Aramis for the two days the Regiment were in Le Mans. But as soon as the Regiment left Le Mans, Aramis began slipping back into the depths of his own mind again.

Since they arrived at La Rochelle three weeks ago Aramis had been keeping his distance and Porthos didn't know why. So when he saw Aramis shifting to look up at the sky he decided it was time he needed to know. So he walked over and then dropped down beside his friend.

Aramis groaned internally when Porthos sat down beside him, he went to move but was halted by his friend.

"Have I done something wrong?" asked Porthos,

Aramis clenched his eyes shut; He wanted to speak but he merely shook his head. _No it's not you. It's me! You have to stay away from me! It's the only way you'll survive!_

Porthos frowned in confusion and worry, "Aramis what is going on?"

"Nothing" murmured Aramis as he stared straight ahead at Fort Louis below them.

"This isn't nothing" argued Porthos, "You never get like this over nothing"

"Please just leave it alone Porthos, everything is fine" sighed Aramis.

"Look me in the eye and tell me there is nothing wrong" demanded Porthos.

Aramis tried, he tried so hard to look at Porthos but he just couldn't. All he could see in his mind's eye was Porthos lying very still on the battlefield. So Aramis suddenly pulled himself to his feet and made to walk away but was pulled back. He turned to see Porthos was also standing and had grabbed onto his arm.

"I'm not letting you go until you tell me what is wrong" growled Porthos as he stared at Aramis with narrowed eyes.

Aramis, knowing that now he had to tell Porthos what was troubling him took a deep breath. "I'm remembering the last time I was in a battle. And it is not fond memories I am looking back on, except for when I spoke to Treville. I am remembering all that I had lost and I do not want to lose what I have gained since."

Porthos stood silent in shock; Aramis turned his head away in embarrassment and tried to pull away. But Porthos stood firm and tightened his grip. "You won't lose what you have gained Aramis" murmured Porthos,

Aramis shook his head in desperation, "You don't understand! I was like you once; I thought nothing could separate Victor and I. You know how easy it is to be separated in a fight among a troop of Musketeers. But it is a thousand times worse in a battle!" Aramis' voice rose in desperation, he wanted Porthos to be prepared for what they were going to face.

"I won't leave your side Aramis" comforted Porthos; he tugged Aramis so he was facing his friend and placed a hand on each of Aramis' shoulders.

Aramis groaned and gripped his hair in frustration that was such a Porthos response, a response that could lead to his death. "Don't say that!" Aramis looked up and saw Porthos' confused look. "You try to stay near me and you won't be looking out for yourself! You will get yourself killed doing that!"

"Alright! Alright!" soothed Porthos as he squeezed Aramis' shoulders comfortingly. "I promise to stand by you-"

"No!" interrupted Aramis sharply finally meeting Porthos' gaze.

"Let me finish!" ordered Porthos, he softened his voice and continued, "I promise to stand by you for as long as I can, but if we get separated I promise not to endanger myself looking for you"

Aramis relaxed and sighed in relief, he nodded and gave Porthos a small smile.

"Good" smiled Porthos, "Because not only were you beginning to make me nervous, the new recruits were beginning to get twitchy. They look up to you; it wasn't doing them any good seeing you keeping to yourself"

"It won't happen again" said Aramis smiling as he slung an arm over Porthos' shoulders as they walked back down to the encampment together. Aramis stood straighter, the invisible weight lifted from his shoulders.

* * *

A week has passed and Aramis had kept to his word, and to Porthos' delight he was back to normal, laughing and joking with the other men. But now Porthos was the one secretly worrying. He intended to keep to his promise because he knew what would happen to Aramis if he didn't, if he somehow got killed he knew Aramis would feel guilty and nothing anyone could say would make the guilt fade. But he hoped and prayed that he and Aramis wouldn't get separated, the times Aramis had faced trouble without Porthos and Athos were the times it went wrong for Aramis. Athos and Porthos had made a pact, without speaking, that to the best of their abilities they were going to stick beside Aramis and hopefully not let him out of their sights.

Aramis was currently stood in front of the small group of new recruits and was giving them advice about what they should do in battle; Porthos was also listening for he also had not seen battle. Suddenly a cannon fired and the recruits around them startled, even Porthos flinched. But Aramis merely stood completely still and only stated, "It has begun".

* * *

**November 1627**

They had faced some skirmishes but fortunately neither Aramis, Porthos or Athos had been injured. The Regiment had also been fortunate; no Musketeers had been lost in the campaign so far. All things considered things were going well, they could have been much worse. Although if asked the Musketeers would grumble about Cardinal Richelieu acting as commander of the besieging troops when the King was absent. When this happened the Musketeers always got stuck with the more dangerous assignments of patrolling around the city's walls and guarding the engineers who were building fortifications for the entrenchments that were isolating the city.

But soon word came that the Duke of Rohan was attempting to raise a rebellion in Southern France to relieve the number of the King's troops at La Rochelle. Treville gathered the Musketeers together and announced that a small group of them were going to accompany the small force being sent to stop the rebellion while it was still small and he was sending Athos to be in charge of the Musketeers.

Aramis sighed in relief, he sensed that the small force would be able to defeat the Duke of Rohan easily enough, and so he had one less friend to worry about losing. Looking at Porthos from the corner of his eyes he could see Porthos was thinking the same thoughts. When someone else who didn't know Athos very well would think the look on his face never changed, Aramis could clearly see that Athos was not happy at the thought of leaving them at La Rochelle. So when they were saying goodbye Aramis endeavoured to reassure Athos they would be fine.

"Athos we have been soldiers longer than you, we will be fine" smiled Aramis.

Athos raised an eyebrow and looked down at Aramis sceptically, "I look away for one minute and you two have always gotten yourselves into trouble"

Aramis shrugged helplessly, "I wouldn't say we got ourselves into trouble"

"No" Porthos added shaking his head, "Trouble finds us, that's different"

Athos raised his eyes heavenward and shook his head, his lips twitching into almost a smile. But he grew serious once again and as his horse fidgeted he looked down and said, "Take care, I do not want to receive word that you two have gotten yourselves killed"

"Is that concern you hear Porthos?" asked Aramis mockingly,

"I do believe it was Aramis" replied Porthos smirking,

"It has only taken us two years to get him to admit that" joked Aramis.

"I'm serious!" interjected Athos looking disapprovingly at Aramis.

"And so are we!" exclaimed Porthos, "Do you know how hard it has been for us to get you to admit that?! We can now go and tell Treville to end the Siege as the plan has worked!"

"That is not funny Porthos" groaned Athos,

"I thought it was" grinned Aramis as he clapped Porthos on the back,

"You would" sighed Athos as he rubbed a hand over his face.

Aramis grew serious and tugged Athos' boot, "Take care of yourself and we'll promise to come back alive"

Athos nodded, "Alright" he then turned his horse and rode away casting one more glance back at his two friends, his brothers, who remained standing next to each other.

Aramis stood watching Athos ride away and wondered if there was anything he could do that would convince Treville to send Porthos away from La Rochelle. But he winced just thinking about Porthos' reaction if he ever found out Aramis had gone behind his back to Treville. He then heard someone calling his name, he turned to see an out of breath Henri approaching.

"Treville…wants you…part of…the… entrenchments…are being…attacked" panted Henri as be braced his hands on his knees.

Aramis nodded and as he ran passed he patted Henri's shoulders. Henri was one of the new recruits in the Musketeers and he showed a lot of promise, but he was the youngest and seeing what he could become with experience Treville had made Henri his messenger to ensure the boy survived the Siege. Aramis was not jealous; Henri had to run between the Musketeer patrols and Treville and on the occasion to the Cardinal himself. No one envied Henri that task.

* * *

**April 1628**

The fortifications for the entrenchments had finally been completed and if the Musketeers thought their jobs regarding the entrenchments were finished with they were wrong. A significantly large army had been put in place to man the fortifications, and the Musketeers were involved in this army, the Musketeer patrols would rotate every three days and would help the army guard the fortifications. Aramis and Porthos had both been correct in that Athos and the small force he was with had defeated the Duke of Rohan easily and much to their relief Treville had sent Athos back to Paris to oversee the troop that had been left behind to continue their patrols of the city, the patrols around the Palace gardens and their normal assignments.

Easter wasn't a good time for Aramis, the surprising change in weather brought with it a biting cold and slight dusting of snow which had brought back the memories of Savoy with a vengeance. For two years he had managed to not let the memories consume him, but sitting in the cold entrenchment had allowed the memories to pass through his defences. To make matters worse Porthos had been temporarily assigned to a different patrol while two of the men were being treated for injuries. It had been nerve racking for Aramis while he was at the Fort and Porthos in the entrenchments, but he had been relieved when their patrols rotated and he could see for himself that his friend was unharmed. But the weather had worsened within a day and his patrol had been ordered by the Cardinal to stay an extra two days until more fresh troops could arrive. So Aramis was now huddled up in a small room in the fortifications with the rest of the patrol trying to stay warm and keep Savoy out of his mind. It wasn't working very well.

He was sat trying to rub warmth into his hands and arms, but he still felt the cold sinking into his bones and clenched his eyes shut to block out the unpleasant memories that wanted to make themselves known. The door banged open and Aramis looked thankfully up at the distraction.

It was Henri who entered and he was holding blankets. Aramis sighed happily, extra blankets!

"Treville sends these with orders that you stay in shelter tonight to avoid the cold weather that is setting in" said Henri as he began handing out the blankets.

"You don't need to tell us twice lad!" commented Philippe as he took two blankets from Henri, passing one to Tristan before wrapping his own around him.

Henri passed around all but one blanket; he wandered over to Aramis who was huddled in the corner. He crouched in front of the older Musketeer and gently wrapped the blanket around Aramis' shoulders and on top of the blanket already around him. Aramis smiled his thanks and burrowed himself into the blankets.

"Are you alright Aramis?" asked Henri, his young eyes wide in concern. Henri was only twenty, the age Aramis himself was when he first became a soldier, and looked more like a boy. He wondered if back then, to an older solider, did he look like Henri did to him now? A boy who was beginning to experience the horrors of the world, while still having some innocence in his eyes.

"I-I-I'm… f-f-f-fine" stuttered Aramis through his chattering teeth, "J-j-just-t-t c-c-cold"

Henri smiled a little, "Porthos says you'd better be keeping yourself safe"

Aramis chuckled, "T-t-the best-t-t I c-c-can-n-n with-h-h t-t-his weather-r-r"

Henri nodded and then walked over to Philippe passing on a message from Treville and then he was gone. Aramis slumped his head against the wall and knew he wasn't going to sleep that night. Not because of his worry for Porthos, not because of the cold, but because of the nightmares he wanted to avoid.

* * *

Porthos stood by the entrance into the Fort and rubbed his hands together as he stood beside a fire, he kept his gaze ahead of him looking for any sign of Henri. He was worried about Aramis, the constant threat of attack and now the cold weather were going to be hitting all the men hard. And Porthos hated that his friend would be facing this alone, he hoped Henri would be able to tell him something about Aramis, as he had a suspicion that the weather would be bringing back the memories of Savoy for Aramis. The weather was bringing them back for him and he had not gone through the same horrors Aramis had.

He saw Henri approach and before the boy had properly entered the Fort Porthos had pulled him aside, once realizing who had grabbed hold of him Henri began speaking.

"They are all uninjured, but they are cold. They all looked so pale. Aramis seemed alright"

"Seemed?" questioned Porthos, he didn't like the sound of that and neither did he like that Henri had described the men, and Aramis, as pale.

"Well in this weather they are as well as they can be, being as unprepared as everyone else with the surprising turn in the weather. But Aramis looked as if something was haunting him. He was huddled in a corner by himself and looked tired. I think he's been keeping himself awake" replied Henri.

Porthos sighed; he thanked Henri and sent the boy on his way. So Aramis was being haunted by Savoy and was keeping himself awake. Porthos shook his head, that was news he did not want to hear, but there was nothing he could do. Nothing except wait and be there ready to help Aramis when his patrol returned.

Two days later the patrol was finally allowed back to the Fort, the cold weather began to fade as quickly as it had come. And as the weather faded so did the memories of Savoy, as Porthos' memories faded he only hoped Aramis' did. Once again he was stood at the entrance to the Fort and watched the patrol as it slowly came closer. He finally managed to spot Aramis in the group and swiftly walked over to his friend. When Aramis looked up he began smiling, but as Porthos got nearer he could see the dark circles under his friend's eyes.

"Enjoy being huddled up in your tent?" asked Aramis as he clapped Porthos on the shoulder.

Porthos frowned seeing a slight paleness on Aramis' face, so ignoring his friend's question asked, "Everything alright?"

Aramis gave him a small smile; he knew what Porthos was asking about, "Fine" at Porthos' raised eyebrow Aramis added, "It wasn't perfect but it could have been worse"

Porthos sighed shaking his head, "Are you ever going to give me straight answers?"

"I like keeping you on your toes" grinned Aramis, the truth was it had been pretty bad for him. The constant threat of attack kept him on edge the entire five days and coupled with his bad memories it had left him emotionally drained.

When Porthos looked at his best friend he could see Aramis was still tense and so he gently led Aramis to his tent and laid Aramis' two blankets on his bed and pushed Aramis onto the bed.

"This is your bed! I'll just go back to my tent!" protested Aramis, he stilled at the glare directed at him. Aramis slowly lay down and within moments of his head hitting the pillow he was fast asleep.

Porthos chuckled in amusement and kept watch over his friend, Treville stopped by knowing Aramis would be with Porthos, and seeing Aramis was sleeping peacefully he left Porthos to his watch after handing him some rations. Porthos woke Aramis briefly to eat and then lowered Aramis back to lying down letting his friend sleep the rest of the day away. After dinner he brought Aramis' bed in from the tent next to his and hunkered down under the blankets lying on his side so he could reassure himself Aramis was sleeping peacefully before he allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

* * *

**Late August 1628**

Aramis and Porthos with their patrol were walking around the entrenchments and everything seemed fine, but Aramis didn't know what it was but something was telling him the peace wasn't going to last for much longer. And sure enough some Huguenots were running towards them swords raised. The Musketeers paused momentarily, and then Aramis swiftly moved in front of Porthos taking Porthos' pistol at the same time and fired. He thrust the pistol back into Porthos' hands before he fired his own. He didn't have time to reload because the Huguenots were soon upon them.

Everything faded into the background as he drew his sword and began fighting for his life, it was almost too easy. The Protestants fighting him weren't proper soldiers; they must have been men from inside the city drafted into fighting. Aramis almost felt sorry for them and hated that he had to kill them, but they were fighting to kill and so Aramis had to kill to survive. It wasn't pleasant, but it was either that or be killed.

Without looking he knew Porthos had been pushed away from him, but he pushed his worry to the back of his mind. Worrying would only get himself killed; he'd given Porthos that advice so he had to follow his own advice.

Suddenly two Protestants turned on him and with their skills with a sword Aramis guessed they were professional soldiers and so harder opponents to beat. While he was in the process of disarming one the other raised a leg and kicked him hard in the lower chest. Aramis was flung backwards and had the breath knocked out of him. Tristan and Philippe came out of nowhere and drove back his opponents.

His sword had slipped from his grasp and he lay on the ground eyes closed slowing his breathing as much as he could, pretending to be dead as he regained his breath. His rouse seemed to be working because he heard a very familiar voice cry out his name in a panic.

He wanted to give Porthos a sign that he was alright, but he still did not have enough breath to answer Porthos or fight and knew showing he was in fact alive would only bring the Protestants to kill him because he could tell Porthos was too far away to help. He hated hearing the raw anguish in Porthos' voice but with nothing else he could do he just laid there trying not to show the pain on his face from making his brother believe he had been killed.

* * *

Porthos had stood still in shock when the Huguenots had suddenly appeared and Aramis had stood in front of him, he had wondered if his friend had a death wish. But hearing the firing of pistols he realized that Aramis was not trying to get himself killed rather he was trying to minimize the number of the enemy charging at them.

Things had happened quickly and he could only watch as Aramis drew his sword and moved forward a few paces to begin fighting. Unfortunately those few paces turned into a huge gap, now Porthos was nowhere near to his friend. So it was with great horror and the feeling of his heart stopping that he looked back for Aramis only to see his friend lying limply on the ground.

"Aramis!" called Porthos as he began pushing his way through the fighting mass, his eyes on his friend not believing that he had lost his brother and hadn't even known. "_Aramis_!" but still Aramis did not answer him, he didn't even twitch. Porthos thought he saw Aramis' chest move as if he was drawing in a breath but he didn't know if it was wishful thinking for Aramis still looked dead.

Eventually Porthos was crouched at Aramis' side; Tristan and Philippe were fighting around them trying to protect them. Porthos leaned closer and felt for a pulse, he had a short flashback to doing this back in a snow covered forest on the border with Savoy. He blinked the memory away and was shocked, but relieved, when Aramis' eye flickered open.

"Are you alright?" asked Porthos, as he breathed a sigh of relief noting that Aramis didn't appear to be injured but that only confused him. If Aramis wasn't injured why was he lying on the floor looking dead?

Aramis looked up at him and nodded as he slowly sat himself up.

"Why didn't you answer me?!" demanded Porthos after seeing that Aramis was indeed uninjured.

"Got knocked over and I had to catch my breath" replied Aramis he turned slightly and grabbed his sword and pushed his hat more firmly onto his head.

"I thought you were _dead_" hissed Porthos, he wasn't angry at Aramis but the situation in general so Aramis just had the anger directed at him.

"I _would_ _have been_ had I looked like an alive person trying to catch their breath!" protested Aramis. Porthos sighed and then nodded, he helped Aramis to his feet and soon they were back in the throng of the fighting. Porthos tried his hardest to stick to Aramis' side but yet again they were separated, he growled in frustration at the unfairness of it all. All he wanted was to stay by his brother's side to make sure he made it out of the fight alive. Was that too much to ask for?

Porthos was brought out of his thoughts when the man he was fighting slashed his leg and pushed him, unbalanced with his wounded leg Porthos found himself falling back into the entrenchment. He landed awkwardly and heard a crack and felt his left shoulder be engulfed in pain. As his eyes flickered shut he was dimly aware of Aramis leaning over him shouting to someone. He looked up at Aramis' worried face before the darkness overwhelmed him.

* * *

Porthos slowly opened his eyes as he felt himself lowered onto a stretcher and looked down to see his left arm in a sling.

"Good you're awake" Porthos turned to see Aramis stood beside him. At Porthos' questioning look Aramis pointed to his left shoulder.

"You dislocated your shoulder when you landed and while you were unconscious Henri and I took the opportunity to reset it, the gash on your leg isn't that serious. So in a few weeks you'll be fine" smiled Aramis. But it was one of his smiles that he used to distract someone from news he knew they wouldn't like.

"Aramis. What aren't you telling me?" demanded Porthos, he ignored the pain and glared up at Aramis. His friend opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted as Treville entered the tent Porthos knew to be where the wounded were taken.

Treville gave Aramis a sympathetic glance before he looked down at Porthos with the same look on his face as he sat on the edge of the stretcher, "The campaign is over for you Porthos"

"What do you mean Captain?" asked Porthos, a part of him knew what Treville meant and he hoped he was wrong.

Aramis looked away while Treville sighed, "While your injuries will heal you will be out of action for a long time with your shoulder. So once the physician deems you fit enough you will be travelling back to Paris."

Porthos shook his head, "No, please sir, I'll be fine! Give me two weeks and I'll be back fighting!"

"I'm sorry Porthos, but those are your orders" said Treville, he gently patted Porthos' good shoulder and then rose to his feet. He nodded at Aramis and then left the tent.

Aramis slowly raised his head from looking at his feet and met Porthos' sharp gaze, "I'm not going back to Paris"

Aramis sighed and he sat where Treville had just been, "You have to Porthos. You don't have a choice in the matter"

"I'm _not_ leaving you here alone!" growled Porthos and reached out to grasp Aramis' arm,

"You can't Porthos. Treville is the Captain and he has made the decision and it is in your best interest. You need time to recover" argued Aramis,

"I can recover here!" disputed Porthos.

"You _need_ to recover in Paris" Aramis firmly stated, "It is for the best"

"How is it for the best?!" exclaimed Porthos angrily,

Aramis lowered his voice which showed Porthos that Aramis was being serious, "Because for one it will allow your shoulder to heal much better than it would here. And second you will be safe"

Porthos pulled back his hand in shock and his anger began to grow, and while it had been directed at Treville it was now aimed at Aramis. "Safe?! I'm not some child who needs protecting!"

"I know that!" snapped Aramis, he was exhausted and had now given up in trying to make Porthos see that it was for the best, his being sent back to Paris.

"Then why are you agreeing with the Captain?!" barked Porthos.

"Because he is making the right decision!" retorted Aramis as he stood up quickly and glared down at his stubborn friend,

"You are both wrong!" snapped Porthos, he was running out of arguments and he was desperate to be allowed to stay at the Fort, he couldn't go back to Paris while Aramis remained at La Rochelle.

"We have both been soldiers _longer_ than _you_. I think we know more about this than you do" Aramis commented through gritted teeth.

"You go out there without me. And you will pull reckless stunts and get yourself killed! You wonder why your friends get killed, they die trying to save you!" sniped Porthos, as soon as the words were out of his mouth he desperately wanted to take them back. He hadn't meant to say that, he had no idea where the words came from. Aramis sucked in a sharp breath and in his eyes Porthos could see that his friend was remembering all those he had lost in battle and at Savoy. "Aramis I didn-"

Aramis just stood straighter and masked his emotions, "Thank you for the vote of confidence Porthos" he said in a flat tone, he turned and began to leave.

"Wait! Aramis Stop!" called Porthos, Aramis stopped and was about to turn back to face Porthos when Henri burst into the tent.

"Aramis! The Huguenots are attacking again! You're needed at the entrenchments!" announced Henri,

Aramis shot Porthos a side glance before he was running out of the tent and out of Porthos' sight. Henri saw Porthos' forlorn expression and wandered over.

"I have to pass messages from the Fort to the entrenchments, I can come every day and let you know how Aramis is doing" offered Henri.

Porthos looked up at the boy gratefully, "Thank you Henri"

Henri smiled and then left the tent, leaving Porthos to his miserable thoughts and his guilt. How could he have said that to Aramis? Aramis' worst fear was his friend's dying around him, and it was a fear that had come to pass too often for Porthos' brother. Porthos had spent months convincing Aramis none of the deaths of his friend's or cousin were his fault, now he had gone and told Aramis that they were his fault.

"Please come back alive" murmured Porthos, before he closed his eyes to try and sleep and forget the words he had said to Aramis.

* * *

**Early September 1628**

Two weeks had passed and Porthos was now ready to travel to Paris, he had not seen Aramis once, but Henri had been true to his word and had come to see Porthos every day to tell him Aramis was alright.

Porthos was stood waiting for Henri to arrive before he left, wanting one more assurance that Aramis was still alive. He wanted so desperately to apologize, but didn't want to say it through Henri, he wanted to say it face to face.

He had been stood waiting for an hour and still Henri had not arrived, his heartbeat quickened in his fear that something had drastically gone wrong. Shouts erupted from the soldiers that there was serious fighting at the entrenchments. Porthos gasped and went to run to the gate but Treville appeared.

"What are you still doing here?" he demanded,

"I was waiting for Henri" replied Porthos, "Aramis, is he alright?"

Treville sighed, "I do not know. But you have to go now; the others going back with you have waited long enough"

"But Aramis!-" protested Porthos,

"I'm sure is fine" soothed Treville, and then ignoring Porthos' protests he helped Porthos mount his horse.

Porthos could do nothing but look back at the entrenchments easily picturing Aramis fighting for his life. Once again he deeply regretted his words to Aramis; all he had been trying to achieve was to be able to stay with his brother. But all he had ended up achieving was to hurt his brother. As he rode away, not for the first time, he looked up at the sky and murmured, "Please bring him back alive".

**TBC**

* * *

**A/N Sorry for ending the chapter there! But I will try and update as soon as I can, but University term finishes tomorrow so I have to pack up my stuff to go home and my mum has already planned jobs for me when I get home. Joy. So I'll be as quick as I can!**


	10. Siege of La Rochelle–Sep 1628 – Nov 1628

**Late September 1628**

Aramis was sat huddled near a fire and stared at the flickering flames before he looked up at the night sky. Looking up at the stars he could almost believe everything was peaceful, he sighed and looked down at his hands. He was so tired. He had been at La Rochelle for a year now and he was exhausted, he'd had enough of living in constant worry of attack. The English had tried a third attempt at sending ships to help the Huguenots. Originally when the English had sent their first fleet Aramis had been surprised, considering the English and Scottish King Charles I (although being Protestant) had married Louis XIII's Catholic sister in 1625. The third English fleet had bombarded their positions and Aramis had rushed around trying to help as many of the wounded as he could, it had taken days for the red stain of blood to finally vanish from his hands. He had slumped against a wall feeling defeated, for although the English fleet had been defeated and had withdrawn back to England. Aramis felt the exhaustion seeping into his bones and now he felt over tired, it had been a long time since he slept peacefully the whole night through.

Treville had seen how exhausted he was and had even offered him some leave to go home for a week, while it had been tempting to take Treville up on his offer and go and see his mother, father and grandfather. He had declined due to the fear of an attack and the newer recruits getting killed. No he would rather remain at La Rochelle to keep an eye on the young Musketeers and ensure they survived the campaign. The Musketeers had lost five men, three of which had been new recruits; Aramis took this as a personal loss. He had taken the new recruits under his wing and helped them as best he could, so to lose three made his gut churn with dread and the feeling of failure. While Aramis silently despaired over the situation, he breathed easier knowing Athos and Porthos were back in Pairs.

Aramis bowed his remembering the last time he had seen Porthos; he pulled a hand through his hair. Porthos' words had always been at the front of his mind during the past month. He knew he had a tendency to take risks when in a fight, but he had never considered they were the reason his friends died.

_"You go out there without me. And you will pull reckless stunts and get yourself killed! You wonder why your friends get killed; they die trying to save you!"_

He remembered in his anger he had barely been able to stop himself from snapping back that he never asked anyone to save him. But he stopped himself because he had seen some truth in his friend's words, and then the guilt set in and he decided that it really was for the best that Porthos go back to Paris. That way Porthos wouldn't die trying to save him. He had already forgiven Porthos, he could see looking at Porthos that the words had slipped out, they held no meaning and were words Porthos already wished he could take back. Nevertheless, while Porthos may have felt they meant nothing, Aramis could see the link between the deaths of his friends and his actions.

After Henri had told him he was needed at the entrenchments, as he ran back to the men he had vowed that no one else would die for him. Either he would fight alone and survive or he would fight alone and die. He didn't care which. Just so long as no else stepped in and died for him. He wasn't worth it.

* * *

Porthos was stood in one of the bedrooms at the garrison, with Aramis still at the battlefield he wanted to remain here until the men returned, that way he was close by if any news, or wounded returned. News had spread and reached Paris that the English had sent a third fleet of ships that had bombarded the Royal French forces leaving many wounded or dead, no one knew any names and so he did not know if Aramis was among the wounded or dead; for messages were not passed between the garrison and the Musketeers at La Rochelle. But after two weeks of no Musketeers wounded or dead arriving at the garrison Porthos took it as a good sign that Aramis was still alive and uninjured.

He stared out of his window, looking up at the stars he felt slightly comforted that he would be looking up at the same thing Aramis would be, knowing his friend took comfort in watching the peaceful sky.

_If he is still alive that is_.

Porthos pushed back that thought as quickly as it came, Aramis wasn't dead he just wasn't. Aramis was stubborn and he didn't give up easily. In fact he was so stubborn that if someone told him to do something he didn't want to, he would go and do the complete opposite. Porthos chuckled remembering all the scrapes Aramis got himself into due to that particular personality trait. The chuckle caught in his throat, his good mood vanishing into the night. While Aramis was so stubborn that he wouldn't give up, he would put aside his stubbornness and _would_ give up if it meant his friends would survive. Aramis would fall on his own sword if it meant it would save his friends. Not for the first time Porthos berated himself for telling Aramis he was the cause of his friend's deaths. Knowing his best friend like he did, he knew Aramis would be keeping himself away from everyone, making sure they didn't help him. Making sure they survived and not caring if he did not.

Porthos knew that if the worst should happen and his brother would not return to Paris, he would never forgive himself. He may not be the one to fire the musket or swing the sword, but Aramis' blood would be on his hands.

He looked to his left and stared at his shoulder still in its sling, while his memories were hazy from when he injured his shoulder. He distinctly remembered Aramis' worried face leaning over him, and the relief that was plain on Aramis' face when he realized that Porthos only had a gash on his leg and a dislocated shoulder.

Porthos also remembered the terror that had gripped his heart tightly when he thought he had lost Aramis; the feelings of despair he had felt at Savoy was nothing in comparison. When he had been told about the massacre at Savoy he had stubbornly refused to admit Aramis was gone, with no body there was no proof that his brother had been killed. When he had found Aramis he was alive and so he had been proved right. But seeing Aramis looking all but dead on the battlefield outside La Rochelle. He shuddered. Then he had known pure terror and loss, because lying in front of him was Aramis' body, and if the worst had happened, lying in front of him was the proof.

Now he knew why, when Aramis talked about his life before the Musketeers he would get a haunted look in his eyes. Now he understood why Aramis stubbornly refused to talk about his friends from his first years as a soldier, Porthos didn't even know their names. Aramis only ever told him about Victor; it seemed as if Aramis never wanted to remember his friends. Porthos now knew he was wrong; it wasn't that Aramis wanted to forget his friends; he wanted to forget the images of seeing them lying dead on a battlefield. Aramis was still alive, and yet Porthos could not banish the images of Aramis lying still in the forest on the border with Savoy and lying still at La Rochelle. Despite the deaths of Aramis' friends being six years ago Porthos could see that it was still painful for Aramis to talk about them. Porthos couldn't blame him; if he lost Aramis then he would be exactly the same.

He looked back up at the sky and murmured, "Let him live, bring him back safe"

A hand landed on his right shoulder, he startled and looked around to see Athos looking at him. Athos' face looked how it always did, but in his eyes Porthos could see concern for him and for Aramis.

"He'll be alright, he'll come back" stated Athos, he said it with such conviction Porthos almost believed him. But the words he spat at Aramis swirled around his head along with Aramis' wide eyes filled with pain, loss and the haunting memories.

"After what I said to him…" whispered Porthos sadly shaking his head, "I wouldn't begrudge him if he never spoke to me again. If he comes back"

"He will come back. At this point no news is good news" stressed Athos, "While I do not know what words passed between you, for that is your business not mine, I do know Aramis. I know he will have already forgiven you and as soon as he sees you he will tell you as much. I know you fear him being distracted, but he has more luck than anyone I know. He'll come back. Just you wait and see" Athos gave him a small smile before he turned and left.

Porthos watched him leave and then turned back to the night sky above him. He wanted to believe Athos he really did, he did not willingly picture Aramis dead. But with no wounded returning there had been no one to tell him that Aramis was still alive and it had been almost a month since he left Fort Louis and left Aramis behind. He braised his right hand on the windowsill bowing his head, his mind replaying all the good times he and Aramis shared; from purposefully annoying Athos and Treville, to fake duelling each other in the courtyard in front of new recruits making them sit with their mouths open in shock and awe and all the bar fights they got themselves into.

"Come back Aramis, just come back alive" he whispered before he turned away from the window and settled in his bed hoping that he would sleep the night without waking from a nightmare of receiving news that Aramis was not going to return.

* * *

**Late October 1628**

Aramis stood beside Henri and looked at the Huguenot men who were charging towards them, he then looked at Henri; the boy had been sticking close to him the past few days after he had been assigned to Aramis' patrol. Noting how the Protestants were nearing he gently, but forcefully, pushed Henri towards the main group of men from their patrol. Henri looked back at him in surprise and confusion.

Aramis nodded to the group, "You'll be safer with them, stay with them and remember what I have taught you and you'll be fine"

"What about you?!" exclaimed Henri, as he looked from the patrol and back to Aramis.

Aramis gave him a small smile, "I'll be alright. Just stay with them Henri, whatever happens with me or anyone on their own just stick with Philippe and Tristan and the rest of the patrol"

Henri opened his mouth to undoubtedly argue, but Aramis strode past him and the patrol before he was at the front and fired his two pistols and reloaded them managing to fire each twice more before he drew his sword. He narrowed his eyes and stared at the Protestants vowing no more of his friends would die, the Huguenots were almost finished, a week at most and Aramis knew the Huguenots would surrender. Just one more week, and then they could all go home and he could see Athos and Porthos again reassuring himself that his friends were well. He had missed them terribly but Henri was a good substitute. He drew his thoughts away from his friends as the Huguenots were close enough to fight.

He easily parried the enemies blows, their sword fighting skills were nothing compared to his own. But it was very different to be fighting alone; usually Porthos was stood behind him or nearby. He always felt reassured having Athos and Porthos fighting close by. But now he was alone.

As the fight dragged on Aramis kept himself away from his fellow Musketeers, he was not going to let any one of them help him and get themselves killed in the process. His plan however, was blown out of the window when from the corner of his eye he saw Henri's sword knocked out of his hand, the Huguenot pushed Henri to his knees and leered at the young Musketeer as he raised his sword to deal the final blow. Henri looked up at the Huguenot with a sharp glare, Aramis felt a little proud that in this desperate moment Henri refused to show any fear. But he wasn't going to die; Aramis was not going to let that happen.

So he kicked the man he was fighting away and straight into Tristan's warpath. Aramis charged sword raised and at the last possible second before Henri would be struck, Aramis thrust with his sword knocking the Huguenot's sword to one side. With his free hand he pushed Henri onto the floor and was dimly aware of Henri crawling along the floor to reach his discarded sword. Aramis, with his eyes narrowed and staring at the man who tried to kill Henri, side stepped until he was stood between Henri and the Huguenot.

"You may have saved your friend Musketeer" sneered the man swishing his sword from side to side, "But you only delay his fate, he will die. Even if I must kill you first to do so"

Aramis smirked, "I'd like to see you try" and he raised his sword higher and looked up at the man through his narrowed eyes that were just peeking from underneath the brim of his hat.

His comment seemed to have insulted the Huguenot, which was what Aramis had been aiming for, Porthos would say how he was being reckless, Aramis had to agree he was. But by insulting the Huguenot he was taking the man's focus away from Henri.

The man let out a battle cry and charged at Aramis, he set his feet shoulder's width apart and made sure he was firmly balanced. The man charging him was easily a bigger build than Porthos and so Aramis knew that if he was not properly prepared he would be on the ground within seconds as if he had been barged over by a horse.

As the man swung at him he had to dunk his head and he swivelled on one foot and straightened up to land his own blow. He was successfully making his foe take steps back, but then the man grabbed Aramis' cloak and pulled. Aramis was unbalanced and almost dropped his sword from the shock of the pressure around his neck. With his back against the Huguenot Aramis wasted no time in lifting one of his feet and slammed it down forcefully on the man trying to strangle him with his own cloak. The man howled in pain and his grasp on Aramis' cloak slackened, Aramis wasted no time and pulled free and turned surprised to see the man already raising his sword to strike again.

Aramis had no idea how long this fight was lasting, but he did know he was growing tried, he knew he couldn't last much longer. He now knew what it was like to face Porthos in a real sword fight, something was he going to avoid even if it was a friendly match instead of one of the fake ones they would do to impress the new recruits. Aramis looked around for help, but remembering he had kept himself away from everyone realised the act to save his friends would be his own undoing. But he saw Henri fighting close by, undoubtedly making sure no other Huguenots came to fight Aramis.

He pushed his foe to one side and used the few moments paused to wipe the sweat from his brow and was thankful that his hat still sat on his head blocking the unwelcome rays of sun from his eyes. He was distracted for a moment and was brought back into awareness as Henri shouted his name. He looked up in time to see the Huguenot bearing down on him once again. His own movements were becoming sluggish, telling him he had been fighting the same Huguenot for longer than ten minutes.

Then the unthinkable happened, in his exhaustion he stumbled over a rock giving the Huguenot enough time to twist his sword out of his grasp. The man lunged forward with his sword and a sharp pain exploded in Aramis' side, he locked gazes with the Huguenot in shock. As the sword was pulled out of his side he distantly heard Henri screaming his name, as his knees buckled and hit the ground with his head lowered, Henri's screams merged into Porthos' voice and Aramis wondered what Porthos would think when Henri told him how Aramis fell. Tripping over a rock, Aramis would have scoffed if his breath hadn't been stuck in his throat. He raised his head a little to look up at the sky and swayed to one side, he then collapsed in a heap on his uninjured side. The sounds of battle and Henri's desperate pleas for him to get up faded away to be replaced with the sound of his own blood pounding in his ears.

The next thing he knew Henri was crouched in front of him looking at him through panicked wide eyes, he gently pushed Aramis' shoulder so he was lying on his back. Aramis winced when something was pushed against his wound; he looked up to see Henri screaming at someone to help him. The pain was fading away and Aramis knew this was a bad sign, and knew this was the end for him. He sluggishly reached out with one hand to weakly grasp one of Henri's, the boy looked down at him and Aramis could see his eyes were shinning from unshed tears.

He swallowed against the lump in his throat and mumbled, "It's alright…not your fault"

"You're going to be alright Aramis" choked Henri as he clutched at Aramis' hand.

Aramis tried to smile, but he knew it would have looked more like a grimace, "It's alright Henri" he whispered. As his eyes flickered shut he distantly heard Henri calling for him to open his eyes. But he was just too tired. The darkness was welcoming and there was no pain and this way he could no longer be the cause for the deaths of his friends. This was the way it had to be, and he accepted that. If only Henri, Athos and Porthos would be able to accept it.

* * *

**Early November 1628**

Porthos was stood waiting in the courtyard along with every Musketeer who remained in Paris; word had reached them that on the 28th of October the city of La Rochelle had surrendered. And today the Musketeer force was returning, a messenger had arrived and announced this, but was unable to say who had been wounded, only that six were wounded, two seriously. Fortunately, the Regiment had only lost five men in the entire campaign. Athos was stood closely at Porthos' side, for Porthos it had been almost three months since he had last seen Aramis, but for Athos it had been a whole year. Porthos couldn't imagine not seeing his brother for that length of a time; it had unbearable going almost three months without talking to Aramis. His best friend had that ability to raise the spirits of people in the darkest of situations; Porthos had desperately needed his spirits raised during the time he was in Paris and Aramis at La Rochelle. But none had been killed in the last push and so Porthos breathed a little easier knowing that Aramis was still alive.

While everyone in the courtyard was rejoicing at the return of their friends and brothers, Porthos could not ignore the feeling of dread that had settled in his stomach three weeks ago. While he had no proof, he knew the unsettling feeling he had had something to do with Aramis. Something had happened, and while he might have been able to brush it off, the fact that Athos had the same feeling three weeks ago did not soothe Porthos at all. Despite knowing Aramis still lived.

He returned to the present hearing the sound of clattering hooves on stone, soon the first wagons were entering the courtyard. Men jumped down and were soon embraced by their friends; Treville then entered riding alongside a wagon everyone instantly knew carried the wounded. Not seeing Aramis jump down from any of the other wagons made Porthos' heart skip a beat, Treville beckoned him and Athos over, they shared a worried glance before they slowly approached the wagon. Sympathetic stares followed, not reassuring Porthos in the slightest, he knew then that Aramis was one of the seriously wounded.

Stretchers were being pulled from the wagon as they stood before Treville who had dismounted and looked upon them with a saddened look. He titled his head towards the wagon and so they walked around it to see the last stretcher waiting to be taken from the wagon had Aramis lying completely still on it. Porthos went to clamber onto the wagon but was held back by Treville as Henri and Philippe took Aramis' stretcher from the wagon, they began taking Aramis to one of the upstairs rooms in the garrison, with Athos, Treville and Porthos hard on their heels.

Porthos stood silent in shock at the edge of the room as Aramis was settled onto the bed, Philippe checked the bandage that was wrapped around Aramis' middle and then stepped back allowing Porthos to slowly approach the pale figure lying still on the bed. Wide eyed Porthos stood above Aramis and rested a hand on Aramis' brow; he was dismayed to feel that Aramis had a fever. The closing of the door turned his attention to those left in the room, just Aramis, himself, Athos and Henri.

Henri walked over with a bowl of water and a cloth, which he handed to Porthos; he smiled his thanks at Henri and wasted no time in soaking the cloth and resting it across Aramis' brow. He lowered himself into the chair Athos brought over for him; he then looked up at Henri who was staring at Aramis worriedly.

"What happened?" asked Porthos softly,

Henri startled and then calmed himself and looked into Porthos' eyes with guilt etched upon his face. "Aramis told me to stick close to the rest of the patrol once we learned we were being attacked. I tried to do as he said but I got separated. I was fighting a Huguenot that was easily twice the size of me. He knocked my sword from my hand and pushed me to my knees and raised his sword"

Porthos shuddered, easily picturing the situation Henri was describing to him. He knew Henri was lucky to be standing in front of them, and he also knew Henri was stood in front of them because Aramis had done something to save him.

Henri took a deep breath before he continued, "Then out of nowhere Aramis used his sword to deflect the killing blow and pushed me to the floor with his free hand. He then got the Huguenot to focus on him forgetting me, so I used the advantage and crawled to retrieve my sword."

Porthos shared a small smile with Athos, and then looked back down at Aramis. He was familiar with Aramis appearing out of nowhere in a fight, Aramis seemed to disappear when you were looking for him. But as soon as you needed someone to fight beside you he was right there, as if appearing from thin air.

"When I turned back I could see that Aramis was evenly matched and was struggling to get the upper hand. I wanted to help, but I was worried I would only get in the way and make matters worse for Aramis" confessed Henri with his head lowered a little as he looked at Aramis.

"You made the right decision Henri" assured Porthos, Henri snapped his head up to look at him, "You may have been injured or killed trying to help Aramis, and Aramis would not have wanted that to happen. You made the right choice staying at the side"

Henri nodded his thanks; Porthos knew Henri looked up to Aramis, during the year. No, now the two years since Henri joined the Musketeers Aramis had taken Henri under his wing. Although Aramis did that to all the new recruits he seemed to have become a mentor for Henri and subsequently a hero for Henri.

"Other Huguenots then came running over, probably seeing Aramis as an easy target. So I fought them, keeping them away from Aramis. The fight was nearly over and so I looked over and I saw Aramis was exhausted. He stumbled over a rock and the Huguenot knocked his sword away, he then…then he…um…he stabbed Aramis" Henri clenched his eyes shut, no doubt trying to block out the distressing images, Porthos clenched his hands thinking about how he would love to get his hands on the man who had almost killed his brother. "Aramis had collapsed onto the floor on his uninjured side, the Huguenot had raised his sword and I yelled at Aramis to get up, but I don't think he could hear me. So I ran and pushed the Huguenot to the floor. Tristan and Philippe came over and dealt with the Huguenot. So I rushed back over to Aramis. He fell unconscious…the physician hadn't held much hope of Aramis surviving, let alone living the trip to Paris"

Despite the serious situation Porthos snorted, "That physician doesn't know Aramis. He is so stubborn he'll do whatever he wants no matter what anyone says"

Athos hummed in agreement, Henri then stumbled slightly, seeing the boy was exhausted Athos rose to his feet and gently led Henri out of the room.

Porthos, now alone with Aramis, reached out a hand and felt Aramis steady and reassuring pulse. He prayed that soon the fever would pass and Aramis would wake up so he could apologize as soon as possible. While he would hate it if Aramis never spoke to him again, he would understand it.

* * *

**Mid November 1628**

It had been a week and finally Aramis' fever had broken, his wound was healing nicely. All that there was left to do was wonder when Aramis would wake up. Henri had explained how he had been delayed when Porthos had left the Fort and had arrived to meet him just minutes after Porthos had left. Henri also told him how Aramis hadn't been sleeping very well before the attack in which he was wounded, so Athos came to the conclusion that Aramis' body was just catching up on the sleep that it needed.

So a week and a day after Aramis had been brought back to the garrison, with Porthos in his usual place in the chair beside Aramis' bed. Aramis began to twitch and moan, Porthos leaned forward in his seat and waited with bated breath, soon Aramis' eyes flickered open. Aramis looked around in confusion and almost began to panic.

Porthos squeezed his hand, "It's alright Aramis. You're at the garrison, you're safe"

Aramis' eyes swiftly looked up at him, "Porthos?" he croaked, his voice hoarse from disuse.

"Yes it is me, who else would be sat at your beside?" smiled Porthos as he helped Aramis take a few sips of water.

"Why am I here?" questioned Aramis, his eyes not fully meeting Porthos'.

"You were wounded" prompted Porthos helpfully, thinking that it was just confusion that had Aramis asking that.

Aramis shook his head, "Thought I was dead. Should have been dead"

"No" stressed Porthos, now knowing what thoughts were consuming Aramis' mind, it looked like his opportunity to apologize had just arisen. "It is good that you are alive"

Again Aramis shook his head, "I'll just get others killed"

Porthos moved Aramis' head so he was looking his wounded friend in the eye, "I shouldn't have said that to you Aramis. It wasn't the truth"

"It was!" interjected Aramis, wincing as he jolted his wounded side, "I'm the reason why my friends and Victor died! And those Musketeers at Savoy!"

"_No_!" hissed Porthos, "I had no right to say what I did to you. You _save_ people, you do not cause their deaths"

"But!-"

"But nothing!" interrupted Porthos forcefully, "Henri told me what happened, you saved that boy's life! Because of you he is walking around the streets of Paris"

"That is one person" Aramis commented,

"One person of many" countered Porthos. He paused and then said, "I'm sorry Aramis, for what I said the last time we saw each other. I was angry and while that is no excuse, I am so very sorry"

"Oh you fool Porthos" sighed Aramis with a small smile, "You have nothing to be sorry for!"

Porthos returned the smile and grasped one of Aramis' hands; Aramis squeezed his hand showing him all was well and forgiven.

Aramis' smile grew and asked, "So what sort of things have I missed in Paris?"

"What am I? A gossiping old woman?!" exclaimed Porthos,

"Well how else am I going to know what's been going on in the city whilst I've been gone?!" countered Aramis. Porthos rolled his eyes and Aramis chuckled knowing that he had won; he settled himself more comfortably into his pillows and looked up at Porthos with his undivided attention. Unfortunately for Aramis, as he was still recovering from a serious wound he was tired and before he knew it his eyes had slipped closed and he had fallen asleep.

Porthos sat back in his chair smirking, and also relived that he had gotten out of telling Aramis all the latest gossip. But Athos had been stood just in the doorway, and as he entered the room and sat in the chair beside Porthos he leaned closer and with a complete straight face he asked, "So what has been happening on the streets of Paris?"

Porthos gaped at him and then frowned, "You have been in the city longer than I have!"

"Yes" responded Athos patiently as if he was talking to a child, "But I have been stuck in Treville's office, not exactly the best place to find out what has been happening in Paris"

"Go and find out for yourself" growled Porthos,

"You were going to tell Aramis, don't you love me as much?" responded Athos faking a hurt look,

"Because he has been out of the city for fourteen months and is wounded! He can't exactly walk around the streets finding out for himself can he?!" protested Porthos. Seeing Athos' smirk he threw his arms up and huffing he left the room muttering, "_You _can tell him the damn gossip"

Athos looked down to see Aramis blinking awake and chuckling at Porthos' retreating back. He looked up at Athos, "So what is the latest news?"

Athos smiled and moved into Porthos' chair that was closer to Aramis' head and settled in to tell Aramis all that he had missed while he had been gone.

**TBC**

**A/N I hope that ending was alright sorry if it seems a little rushed, especially Porthos' apology to Aramis. But I didn't really know how else to end the chapter. This was going to be the last chapter but I can't help but write a chapter on episode 4 'The Good Solider'. After this story is complete I will be starting another that I have had an idea for, so thanks for sticking with this story it really means a lot!**


	11. Never Forgotten – 1630

**A/N Sorry for the gap in updating but I have been doing revision for exams and only writing when I've done enough revision each day. This chapter is set after episode 4.**

* * *

Porthos was sat in Aramis' lodgings waiting for his friend to return from wherever he and Treville had gone. He knew Aramis had shot Marsac; he was worried about Aramis; between his grandfather becoming seriously ill last year, Adele choosing the Cardinal, the memories of Savoy and now Aramis having to kill Marsac to save Treville. Porthos knew it had taken Aramis a very long time to heal after the massacre and the year he spent at La Rochelle, he did not know how long, or if, Aramis would heal after killing a good friend. For Aramis that was the greatest betrayal he could ever commit to a friend.

Porthos looked forlornly out of the window and stared at the pouring rain, Aramis had been gone for two hours and he feared his friend catching a chill from the bad weather. He thought back on how Aramis had been acting once the Duke of Savoy's visit had been mentioned; Aramis had become withdrawn, hardly speaking to them at all, no doubt trapped in the memories of a cold forest on the border of Savoy. Aramis had been acting out of character for weeks so he wondered why he had been shocked to discover that Aramis had been hiding Marsac, shocked but not surprised. How could he be surprised when he knew Aramis still valued the friendship he had had with Marsac? Porthos had been prepared to drag Marsac to the garrison and have him punished for his desertion. He clenched his hands into fists just thinking about how Marsac had left Aramis alone and wounded in that forest. He turned at the sound of a shutting door, his eyes widened in sadness when he looked upon the bedraggled, slumped form of his best friend.

Porthos slowly rose from his chair, "Aramis"

Aramis' head shot up and he looked at Porthos in shock, "You're here?"

"Of course I'm here" responded Porthos, carefully masking his worry and trying not to frown at Aramis' question, "Where else would I be?"

"Anywhere away from someone who doubted Treville" stated Aramis, there was no emotion in his voice, it was as if he was just stating a fact.

"Aramis" whispered Porthos.

But Aramis continued speaking, "I mean why would you be here? I doubted Treville just as Marsac did, and you wanted nothing to do with him! You barely refrained from punching him! If at all possible you would go nowhere near him! So why would you be _here_?!" Aramis ran his hands shakily through his hair causing droplets of water to splatter on the floor. He turned away and stared at the fireplace, just watching the flames; slowly he stepped closer and held out his hands trying to warm them. But he felt no warmth, he began to outstretch his hands further but his hands were pulled back. He snapped his head up and found himself looking at Porthos' stern gaze.

"Put your hands any closer to the fire and you'll end up burning your hands" frowned Porthos,

Aramis stared back at Porthos with vacant eyes blinking slowly, "I'm cold"

"What?" questioned Porthos, he remembered Aramis' confession five years ago, the confession that he had felt cold since the massacre, even two months later. _Not again! Oh please not again!_ Thought Porthos, _Aramis barely survived the aftermath of the massacre!_

"I've felt the cold creeping into my bones since the moment Treville said the Duke of Savoy was coming" added Aramis tiredly.

Porthos sighed and tried to push back the memories of Aramis' depression five years ago, "Well he has left now. Right take off your cloak and your wet outer layers and sit by the fire, I don't want you getting sick"

"What's the point?" murmured Aramis, as he allowed Porthos to take his cloak from around his shoulders and then slumped into a chair that sat beside the fireplace ignoring his other wet outer layers.

"The point? The point is to make sure you don't become ill" responded Porthos as he grabbed a towel and dropped it onto Aramis' head. Aramis seemed unaware of the towel draped over his head and eyes until Porthos pushed it back so he could look Aramis in the eye. "Aramis?"

"What have I done?" asked Aramis hoarsely as he looked down at his hands,

"You saved Treville's life that is what you have done" replied Porthos as he knelt in front of Aramis; he looked up sadly at the frowning face of his brother.

Aramis shook his head almost desperately, "I have blood on my hands" he paused drawing in a shaky breath, "the blood of my _friend _is on _my_ hands"

Porthos looked closer with a cloth ready but saw no traces of blood on Aramis' hands, he said nothing as Aramis bowed his head, the towel dropping to the floor, and clenched his hands into fists.

"How could I do that?!" exclaimed Aramis angrily, "How could I kill a _friend_?!" he raised his hands to his head and began angrily pulling at his hair.

"Stop Aramis" Porthos gently ordered, he carefully pulled Aramis' hands away from his head, "You did what you had to"

"No I didn't" retorted Aramis, he stared past Porthos' shoulder and added, "Marsac wasn't even pointing his pistols directly at Treville or I once Treville explained what happened. He wasn't going to harm us, so why did I kill him?"

Porthos sighed and comfortingly squeezed Aramis' shoulders replacing the towel on his head hoping Aramis would dry his hair; in normal circumstances he would be livid that Marsac had even dared to point a pistol at Aramis. But there was no use in getting angry, Marsac was dead and Aramis did not need anger directed at dead friend he was grieving for. So Porthos said the only thing he could think of that he thought might give Aramis even a little bit of comfort instead of a cold silence.

"Maybe you knew deep down Marsac had really died in the forest five years ago. I could even see looking at him that he was not the same man we once knew; perhaps subconsciously you knew he was living with a constant agonising pain. What you did was not cruel or a betrayal to your friendship, what you did was an act of kindness, you allowed the pain to leave him, you are letting him rest in peace" Porthos looked up at Aramis with surety in his eyes.

Aramis continued to stare past him but Porthos could see emotions shifting in Aramis' eyes, "I'm surprised you said that. It is about the nicest thing you've said about Marsac in the years since the massacre. Especially considering your anger at Marsac for doubting Treville". Aramis did not say this sounding bitter, but rather he sounded as if he was making an observation.

Porthos bowed his head and cursed himself, the whole time he had been focused on his anger at Marsac for leaving Aramis behind. He had not considered how Aramis would be coping with all the memories of Savoy, a part of him had been angry with Aramis for believing Marsac that Treville had had something to do with the massacre. But looking back and looking at Aramis now, he could see that doubting Treville had not been easy for Aramis, he now remembered with clarity how tightly strung Aramis had become once Treville's name had been mentioned. Originally Porthos had thought it was because Aramis was angry at Treville for allegedly letting the massacre take place, but now Porthos realized it was because Aramis wanted to know the truth and at the same time not wanting to believe Treville had anything to do with the massacre. Treville was a father-figure for Aramis, someone who gave him a reason to live all those years ago, and Porthos again realized how Aramis would have had to deal with his conflicting emotions. Something he had to do alone, for neither Athos, himself nor even d'Artangan was prepared to even consider that Treville had anything to do with the massacre. They let Aramis go off alone to seek the truth for the horrific event that had had such an impact on Aramis' life. He recalled how they had tried to talk Aramis out of searching Treville's office telling him Treville had nothing to do with what happened. But what right had they to tell him that? None of them were there with Aramis; none of them watched twenty of their friends slaughtered, they had no right to control Aramis as he looked into the events. They should have stood by him as they swore they would do, that was the unspoken promise Athos and Porthos made when they found Aramis in that snow covered forest. And they had broken it.

Porthos sucked in a breath and looking up he asked, "What did Treville say?"

Aramis looked down at Porthos and then sharply rose to his feet, the towel sliding down his back to rest on the chair. "You didn't want to know before, why do you now?"

Porthos also got to his feet and sadly watched as Aramis paced the length of the room. "Because I want to help you"

"Oh _now_ you want to help" snapped Aramis as he turned his anger filled gaze on Porthos, "You said how you would rather be on Treville's side instead of Marsac's. What about me?! I was stuck in the middle and _none_ of you considered that I didn't want to believe Treville was involved!"

"I'm sorry" apologized Porthos, letting his mask slip allowing Aramis to see that he was serious.

Aramis sighed and slumped back against the wall angling his head up, "It doesn't matter"

"Yes it does!" argued Porthos as he strode across the room to stand in front of Aramis, "I didn't realize when it mattered the most, and I cannot express how very sorry I am for it. But I am on your side, I have always been."

Aramis looked at Porthos and sighed again closing his eyes to avoid seeing the look on Porthos' face when he told him what happened. "Treville was just following his orders, the King needed Savoy distracted so the Duchess, who is acting as spy for the King, would safe from being shown as a traitor to Savoy"

Porthos stood gaping for a moment and then shook himself, "Are you alright?"

"Fine." Shrugged Aramis, still with his eyes closed. "It is like I told Treville; we follow our orders no matter what. Five years ago he followed his orders and I followed mine, I could see that he did not want to do it." His hands shook as he swallowed, trying to appear calm and collected, "With Marsac buried, I'm alone, I am alone with the haunting memories of Savoy."

Porthos reached out and squeezed Aramis' hand, "I may not have been there. I may not be haunted by the same memories as you. But you are _not_ alone."

Aramis turned to look Porthos in the eyes and nodded slowly accepting that while he was now the sole survivor of the Savoy massacre, with Porthos, Athos and d'Artangan by his side he was not alone.

As he and Porthos sat beside the fire he removed his wet outer layers and sat back against the chair, he thought back on all the friends he had lost and now knowing why the massacre had happened it seemed to have made their deaths mean something. He wondered what would have become of the friends he lost, Alexandre would undoubtedly be helping him in caring for the wounded and moaning at d'Artangan for all the bruises and cuts he gained from training. Raoul would still be trying to drink Athos under the table and with Gilbert and Tristan, would most likely showing d'Artangan all the best ways to annoy Athos and Treville without getting into much trouble when caught. Aramis had been teaching Gilbert how to shoot better with a musket, so after five years Gilbert's shooting would have improved drastically, especially after the promise he had shown before the massacre. Aramis might even have had actual competition in the Regiment.

He sighed when he thought of Francis, when the Duke of Savoy's visit had been announced Aramis had gone to see Susanne and Elisabeth. He still went to visit them and felt sadness when he thought of how much Francis had missed in watching Elisabeth grow up, Elisabeth was the spitting image of her father. When learning to talk Elisabeth had called him 'papa', hastily he had taught her to call him 'Uncle Aramis', while he may have been looking after Elisabeth like a father would, he was not going to be called 'papa' or 'father' he was not going to take that away from Francis.

The last time he had seen them Elisabeth had been chasing after a bully waving around a stick trying to fight with it as if it was a sword, Aramis chuckled just thinking about the stubborn five year old. Before Susanne could admonish Elisabeth for her behaviour, he had stepped in and had taken Elisabeth to a small grassy area just down the street and had taught her some proper fighting stances and moves, but before leaving had told her to act as if he had told her off for her behaviour. Elisabeth had grinned up at him with green eyes filled with mischief, he had sighed thinking of how he was doing Francis' job. He settled further into his chair and relaxed, blocking out the horrors of the massacre with images of him playing with Elisabeth and all the good times he had had with his friends.

Porthos looked across as Aramis who was now sleeping in the chair. He again admonished himself for stating that he would rather be on Treville's side than Marsac's, there hadn't been sides, but if there had been he should have been on Aramis'. He recalled, after Aramis had gone alone back to the garrison to check Treville's records, a short conversation he had had with Marsac.

_Porthos shoved Marsac into d'Artangan's room and glared at the other man until Marsac took the hint and backed away to sit down on the bed. D'Artangan entered the room behind him and began tying Marsac to the bed._

_Marsac looked up at Porthos, "We used to be friends and respected each other"_

_Porthos frowned deeply and growled, "My respect and friendship to you vanished five years ago when you left Aramis alone wounded and freezing_ _in a snow covered forest." Porthos had then turned and stormed out of the room, with images of finding Aramis lying still in the forest with his horse Isabella standing guard over him. He had pulled himself out of his thoughts and walked to the Palace beside Athos wondering how Aramis was going to look at the records and not get caught._

Thinking about the day he found Aramis in the forest he came to the conclusion that the only reason why he found Aramis alive was because of Isabella. Aramis had been alone with the dead, until Isabella had come and stood beside him, Aramis had told him that he had felt comforted by Isabella's presence knowing that he wasn't alone. So Porthos knew that he had Isabella to thank for Aramis sleeping in front of him now, he vowed that he would find a juicy apple and give it to Isabella the next morning as a belated thank you.

He decided that Aramis sleeping all night in the chair would do him no good; so he gently lifted Aramis out of the chair and carried him to the bed. It showed how exhausted Aramis was that he didn't wake. Porthos settled beside his brother and took one of Aramis' wrists and with his fingers pressed down on Aramis' pulse. Much like Aramis five years ago had done to reassure himself that he was back in Paris and Porthos was alive beside him as he went to sleep, Porthos now found himself drawing comfort from the same gesture only this time the roles were reversed.

"You are not alone Aramis, you never will be. Remember that above everything else" Porthos murmured before he drifted off to sleep.

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**A/N Thank you all for sticking with this story, it has really meant a lot! At some point I will be writing more **_**Musketeers**_** stories. I am thinking of writing an AU verse story but I am undecided whether I should, a friend has told me that I should write it and post it but we will see, I do have another story idea that is in the works as well. So thanks again for reading!**


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